The Soaring Bird and Love's Gamer
by Essay King of VC
Summary: One month has passed since Keima finished his captures, and life is all the same until he is called by Dokurou to catch Runaway Spirits in Asakusa, Tokyo. But this time, it's not just ordinary girls with extraordinary problems: it's ninjas. Particularly the girls in Hanzo Academy. Rated T because... Well, Senran Kagura.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, what's up, guys! Essay King here with a new crossover fanfic! I am a huge fan of Tamiki Wakaki's 'The World God only Knows', and, for Senran Kagura... It's a meh sort of thing. But in the last few months, I have crafted this self-proclaimed masterpiece! This fanfic will be updated daily, okay? Oh, and don't expect any Ninja action until a REALLY long time. Seriously, put down your popcorn. Just... put it down. Well, putting away the silly talk, hope you enjoy! (There's also the fact that my writing skills improve after a few chapters)**

* * *

With one light tap of the button, he had done it again. Years and years of playing games had really done him some good. With his 12000th capture complete, Keima Katsuragi smirked in glory at the sight of the 2D girl, Yuuki Akihara, declaring her love for him. Such a simple conquest was just too easy for the veteran, who had, as before mentioned, already conquered ten thousand GAL games before this one. His glasses glowed at the reflection, his eyes burnt in victory, his fingers unwavering as he continued on with the last parts of the game and his grin ever so magnificent, it's white shining as far as the eye can see. With his game done, his brain immediately processed the game's quality, and made a mental review of it, something he would later post on his website. With his expertise, there was no wonder as to the reason why the people worshipped him around the puny world that this boy lived it. This was the self-proclaimed God of Games, and The God of Love, Keima Katsuragi. The boy who conquered eleven thousand girls and aided in the capture of Runaway Spirits- wait, wait, wait, what?

As he watched in triumph at his new milestone, he felt a poke of something slender on his bed hair-filled head, and looked up from his own PFP to face his big-chinned English teacher, Ichiro Kodama. His eyes, although looking small and gentle in the distance, was blazing with fury at the sight of a student, much more Keima, not listening in his class. Such behavior was not really accepted by any teacher of any background, but to be able to see this behavior everyday would drive anyone to the brink of insanity, and Kodama was a good example. "Listen to me, Katsuragi! For the first time since Nikaido-san left, just listen to my class!" His echoing voice roared at the unfazed boy, who, surprising to most (except for those in the class), turned towards his PFP and muttered in an uncaring tone.

"Please, let me save first before you speak to me, sir."

Of course, as I have explained before, his quiet little one-to-one speech had inevitably broke a crucial nerve in the Teacher's head...

* * *

Slowly placing his hand on the door's edge, Keima slowly limped out of his class of 2B as a girl nervously followed suite. Grumbling inaudible curses at his English Teacher, the girl tried to calm him down with cliched words of encouragement, to no avail. Such words of care was little to him, anyway. Walking through the hallway with a silver PFP on hand, he breathed a sigh as he adjusted his broken glasses and gave the girl permission to massage his a Godly, albeit bruised face. How in the world did Yuri Nikaido's abusive teaching method get transferred to him!? Pushing the girl's hand away, he growled silently to her, "Just leave me alone for a while. I need to finish the next game."

Pouting at his attitude, Chihiro gave a heavy smack on Keima's back before saying, "When will you ever stop playing. At least listen to him for once." After staring at him for a few seconds for any signs of life, she gave a sigh and, placing her right hand on her waist, she muttered to him in a gentle voice, "You know what, how about we have tea and meat buns later. Maybe that'll calm you down..." True to her words, Keima was always quite calm when he had tea with Chihiro in the tea shop outside the school. I mean, she WAS his girlfriend. It was quite surprising that during the time he had confessed to her, she utterly denied his love, only to come back that day to ask him out for reconciliation and acceptane. "To think of it, where's Eri?"

Eri Katsuragi was Keima's blood-sister, who had a knack for cleaning and, unsurprisingly, was fascinated by the red mysteries of fire trucks. Unknown to his girlfriend and everyone still living and breathing, and only known by God himself, Eri was Keima's partner during his times capturing Runaway Spirits. He could remember her real name like it was a clear summer day: 'Elsie de Lute Irma'. Somehow, it seemed that, after he got back from going back to the past, time had been rewritten, and Elsie was now his full-fledged blood-relative. No one from New Hell who had an affiliation with her could remember her, and even the records of her had disappeared; they were nonexistent, and so was the person who held the name 'Elsie'. Even her friend from Hell, Haqua, only saw her as 'a sister of Keima', and so did everyone else. Strangely, the Goddess inside some of the girls he knew also could not remember her as Elsie, and only saw her as Eri. What powerful force might have changed the memories of everyone he knew, he did not know. Well, he might never have his answer, but he sure needed an answer for Chihiro's proposal.

"Eri's back home helping my mom. And I humbly accept our offer, let's go, you're paying."

Seeing Keima walk down the hallway to the stairs made Chihiro stare in surprise, then delight as she got her boyfriend to open up more to her. And so, she followed the boy down with a smile on her face, even though she knew he had a frown plastered clearly on his own.

Although she didn't like the idea of her paying all the time...

* * *

To get a Runaway Spirit out of a person's heart, one had to do one of these three things:

1\. Help them reenact revenge on a specific person...  
2\. Help them solve a problem (etc: an illness)...  
3\. Make them love you and kiss you.

Runaway Spirits were creatures that had been the souls of evil people who died and were transported to Hell. Through some incident involving Keima many years ago, they had broken the confinements of their life prison, and, as detailed, they find shelter in the gaps in people's hearts. The Runaway Spirit Squad, a special division specially made to catch Runaway Spirits was created to capture them and bring them back, but even with the squad on duty at all times, there were a lot of Runaway Spirits to catch, and so the job was impossible to fully complete. Scouted by Dokurou Skull herself in Hell and assigned to Elsie, Keima had inevitably chosen option 3, due to Elsie's limited knowledge in driving out Runaway Spirits. By now, he had kissed, and driven out the Runaway Spirits, of more than ten girls already. Well, it wasn't his choice to stay in the job. He had been forced to do all the wooing and kissing after replying to a message Runaway Spirit Squad Chief 'Dokurou' sent to him in his PFP, and the mobile guillotine bestowed upon his neck, which would have taken out his head and do unspeakable things to it if he breached the 'contract' in any way. One could say that he was mentally scarred after all those conquests, but, after removing the collar and finishing the contract, he was now leading a normal(gaming) life again, with the exception of a girlfriend, six girls who clearly remembered his conquest due to the Goddess inside them, a sister and new games to play.

It had been a whole month since the two started dating, and some people(I mean everyone) were more than surprised when they found out; with over-the-top reactions, to such an extend that the class of 2-B made the day of his confession a replacement Valentines Day. Even the newspaper club, who were so surprised by the potency of the news, had actually tried to submit the article to a famous newspaper company that circulated all over Japan. Strangely, no one had notice Nikaido's disappearance(other than Kodama and a few of the students); seeing how she was an important teacher in the school, it was quite surprising that no one really noticed her absence. Inside, Keima actually missed her a bit. The fact that he actually knew her since he was a child and having forgotten her for nearly ten years, only to be at the same school, being tutored by her without recognizing her real identity had made his heart ache slightly. 'SLIGHTLY' was the key word here. He was, admittedly, distant from everyone, but, seeing how he was once called Otamegane by everyone might had disrupted his trust with most, and the constant gaming and isolation with everyone could have brought the distant side of him, seeing how he at first never loved the real world and took refuge in the 2D world. But now, with his experience in real life conquests, he had started to accept the real world a bit more, and with Chihiro, he now knew that the world was better than it seemed.

"How's the tea today, Keima?" Chihiro asked after she gave a sigh of relief, the taste of tea a lot nicer than she had first expected. The two were both inside a tea store that was quite popular to the people around town. During the afternoon, the store was bustling with customers, and Chihiro had thought of themselves as lucky to get seats here at that particular period of customer spike. The two were sitting quite far back in the store, at a small seating area beside the counter.

Sipping a bit of tea from the cup, Keima gave his own judgement of the drink, "Hmm, the green tea today seems to be a bit too bitter, and, by checking the temperature, they seemed to have gone a bit overboard with the heat. They also seem to have steeped the tea for too long."

Chihiro's eyebrows lowered into a state of boring disbelief. Keima was something of a perfectionist, but she never knew it was to that extent; although, that would be good for her next move... Digging into her school bag, the ordinary girl pulled out a small container patterned with Sakura flowers. Handing the box to the confused Keima, she beamed a smile and gave a cry of joy, "Here, something I made at home for you!"

Eyeing it in suspicion, Keima's brain started to process his expectations and the outcomes. He knew Chihiro didn't cook, so, with his cook's instinct(Something he got after eating countless dishes from Elsie), he shuddered in fear of the unknown taste and flavor. Looking up, he saw Chihiro innocently staring at him, tilting her head at the sight of Keima not formally accepting it from her. Clearing his throat in an attempt to not anger the girl, the boy took the container, placed it on the wooden table and opened it, and all he found was a large, plain biscuit in the middle. Now that was when the amazement set it. No weird food from Hell- Wait, she wasn't even Elsie! Months of eating boxed lunch made by Elsie had made him suspicious and fearful of all forms of boxed lunch; whether it was from his mother or from his own girlfriend, just all forms of boxed food!

Grabbing the biscuit and eyeing it puzzlingly, his brain quickly deemed the round piece of crunchy flour as 'edible with a sip of tea', and so, after sipping his tea one more time, he took a bite off of it, and started chewing. Slowly, the flavor flowed into his mouth, and after some time of chewing and tasting, he gulped the crushed mass down his throat. "Not really much flavor, but then again, I don't like sweet things, so I think this is ok-URGH!"

Jumping at his loud cry of pain, Chihiro helplessly watched as Keima ran for the toilet, his stomach uncomfortable due to her imperfect biscuit. For the whole time he was inside relieving himself, Chihiro stared at the door, waiting for him to come back out. Her mind was quickly trying to make an apology, and when Keima crawled out on his knees, Chihiro cried to him, "K-Keima, I'm so sorry! I won't cook again!"

He had now evolved into a man that trusted no one's cooking...

* * *

"Eh...?" Keima, who had his hand on the doorknob as he entered his house, weakly muttered as he heard the news from his dear mother, Mari, who was sitting on one if the tables in Cafe Grandpa with an unfolded piece of paper on her hand. After the hassle at the tea store, the two had returned to school, but due to the biscuit, Keima had a continuously stream of stomach pains, which was why went to the nurse's office to rest(and play games) for most of the day. The school had ended minutes ago, and, not surprisingly, Chihiro had helped follow him back just to see if he was okay and not going to collapse out of sheer pain and fatigue; she was actually behind Keima right now, eyeing at his peculiar behavior of standing on the entrance without letting a guest in. Not wanting to make any fuss, Keima walked in and led Chihiro into his house/cafe; at the very second she entered, she formally greeted the elderly woman and went for a beeline to the barstools, plopping herself down and placing her arm on the counter.

"Well, Keima dear, I have just got news from a school quite far away. Have you heard of Hanzo Academy?" Strangely, she never received an answer for her question, and as she turned to Keima, she found him playing his PFP with virtual reality goggles. A nerve popped from her head, and a slight aura of anger emitted from her body, an aura so strong that it actually caused Chihiro to shudder slightly. Standing up and putting on her slippers, she calmly walked to her son and lightly smacked him in the head, growling, "Please listen to me, Keima...This is urgent."

Rubbing his head and placing the goggles off(He saved, of course), he innocently turned to his mother and asked, "May you repeat that?" gently, trying not to anger her any further. Breathing a sigh of relief, Mari sat back down and read the letter in front of her:

"To The Katsuragi Household,  
Your son, Keima Katsuragi, has been specially chosen by Hanzo Academy, Asakusa, Tokyo for a transfer student program. We will be delighted to accept your son for this occasion. There will be a personal house reserved for him to be comfortable during his stay. Please call the number below to ask for inquiries and to make your decision. Please answer before next week, 25/X/20XX. Phone Number: 090-6646-444."

"Wow," Chihiro gave a gasp of surprise, "A transfer program! Maybe you should do it, Keima. Sound fun!" Rolling his eyes, Keima went back to his games, but at the same time as he skillfully played his game, he spoke his reply to the two, "The whole thing seems strange. There is little information of the school given, they give you no detailed pamphlet of the Academy, and what school would actually rent a house for one student to live in? That seems too suspicious. Maybe you should call the number, mom."  
Hesitantly grabbing out her phone, she started dialing the number, leaving Chihiro and Keima to do their own things. All seemed quiet for the household, until Eri's sudden appearance from the back of the house, "Nii-Sama!" She cried with joy, pouncing at her once-not-related-brother and mushing both their cheeks together, to Keima's disgust. She was just too cheerful for him. Taking a peek at Chihiro, he saw, to his horror, her snickering at the sight. If she told this scene to everyone, they would all tease him to Hell. He needed her off. Pushing Eri away, he took in a deep breath, as she had hugged him a bit too right for his comfort. Placing the virtual reality goggles down, he looked at his sister and said to her, "We have a guest, Eri."

Cocking her head to one side, she looked behind her, and to her surprise, she saw Chihiro smiling and giving a small wave of the hand at her, her eyes looking at the two with a mischievous stare. It took a while for Eri to process all that she saw, but once she did, she beamed another giant smile and hopped to her good friend on the stool, hugging her almost the same way she hugged her brother, all with the same amount of care and love, "CHIHIRO! You're here!" Her happy outburst made her brother's girlfriend laugh merrily, although they quietened down when Mari shushed the two. With her ear and mouth close to the phone, Mari started to speak, "Um, yes, is this Hanzo Academy?"

Even with all the chatter, Keima had quickly shifted his attention back to his game, and in a matter of seconds, he was now busily tapping away on his PFP. His craving for games had yet to be sated, and so he hungrily finished the game he played and went on with another one. Still, even with his attention on the games, his hearing went to the outside world, as he wasn't wearing any headphones at the time and he was a bit more connected to the real world, which in turn made him more interested of what was happening outside his 2D world. He could at first hear the two girls whispering to each other, discussing about their daily lives and activities his sister missed in school. It was very faint to him, so he could not pick any details he would have thought useful, but then, eavesdropping on women was deemed disrespectful, so he instead decided to focus on his mother. Her voice was at first low, but, as if by fate or an unseeable power, Mari gave a gasp of surprise and said in a louder tone, "Yuri Nikaido? Is that you?"

Yuri?

She was still here? Quickly placing the goggles down and placing his glasses back to the ridge of his nose, he now glared at his mother as she continued talking, albeit softer now. The two girls were visibly surprised by the sudden slam of the goggles, and they themselves where staring at Keima. Somehow, Chihiro had missed her name, but that was the least of his worries. His brain started to think of the possibilities. Yuri Nikaido had disappeared for nearly a whole month, and Keima had no idea on how to connect to her, but, hearing her name, he wondered if she had actually gone away or, if the facts were compiled properly, she had gone to a new school. But why would she do that? Didn't she say that her duty of protecting him and New Hell was done, and that she would quit teaching? What was she doing now, then?

Standing up from his seat, he walked to Mari and stood beside her before asking, "May I speak to Dokurou?" Her mother took her ears off the phone and looked at his son before asking:

"Who's Dokurou?"

Noticing that he had accidentally used her real name, he immediately corrected it and said, "W-wait, that was someone else, sorry. I meant to say Yuri. I wish to know if she's okay, seeing how she left the school not too long ago."

Oddly, her mother had reacted with surprise. She had never received any news of her resigning, and so, out of curiosity and worry, she asked her son, "What happened to her?"

"Well, she resigned," replied Keima, who, after clearing his throat, continued answering, "But she's didn't tell us anything of where she was going or where she stayed, in general. I want to speak to her and ask her where she is now and how she is doing."

As she watched the the mother and son exchange words, Chihiro began to recollect her memories of the teacher. She was, unanimously, strict to everyone, but she had an infamous reputation of physically punishing her students, particularly Keima, due to his gaming habits. She had never done anything good or bad to the ordinary, everyday girl, but the fact that she had left the school had saddened her somewhat, and she knew a few of her friends missed her too. The only thing she could remember was Kodama-Sensei telling everyone that she had resigned, and left. Strangely, they had no form of contact for her, as if all information of her whereabouts had disappeared, and even though everyone was okay with the fact that such an abusive (but admittedly, good) teacher was gone, she could feel sorrow drifting from Keima. And strangely, before that day, Keima had confessed to her. Was it coincidence that she left just one day after he confessed? Well, she might never have an answer for that, so, after shaking the thought off her head, she leaned to Eri and murmured, "Wanna leave those two alone for now, Eri?"

Eri replied with a quick nod, and, with just that nod, the two went up the stairs to the sister's room.

* * *

Placing the phone near the side of his face, Keima started to talk through to the other user as he went into his room, "Nikaido-Sensei, is that really you?" The voice who replied to him surprised him a lot more than he expected.

"Keima, you know Nikaido Dokurou-Sama?" Haqua, at the other end, replied. This made Keima's mind blank. Why was a devil speaking to him through the phone? Why did she call Nikaido 'Nikaido Dokurou-Sama'? Wait, don't tell me...

"Haqua? How did you get my phone number? Who's Nikaido Dokurou? Answer me!"

"Whoa, Keima, calm down. I'll explain everything."

"You better explain everything, fast!"

"Well, the truth is, someone in New Hell already knows your phone number... And it's Nikaido Dokurou."

"Who's Nikaido Dokurou?!" At that moment, someone on the other side had grabbed the phone away from the purple haired devil, and a familiar voice replied with an irritated tone.

"Keima, it's Nikaido here."

"Y-Yuri, what are you doing in Hell? And why did that phone number lead me to Hell hotline?"

"Well, here's the first thing, don't call me Yuri anymore. I've already discarded that name. Second thing's that I'm working in New Hell now, so I hope you didn't go crying all over the floor about me, cos' that would have been disgusting. Third thing, I have a new mission for you..."

Raising an eyebrow, Keima composed himself and replied, "What do you mean, Dokurou? Didn't you say you were finished with your mission?"

"Well, Onii-chan taught me to look further." At that moment, Haqua's voice could be heard in the distance, "You have a brother, Dokurou-Sama?!" After the excitement died down, Nikaido harshly replied to her to go back and do her work of catching runaway spirits, and her voice went back to the phone, "Now, Keima, you must accept the transfer program. The area you are going to be at is vital for this mission."

"Wait, what mission is it?"

"There are runaway spirits. I want you to capture all of them."

"Wait..." Keima's brain slowly processed all the information he had received. "No. I am not accepting this mission... I hope we can talk again in the future. Goodbye." Closing his mother's phone, he gave a sigh. He didn't want to capture Runaway Spirits anymore. He already had a girlfriend, he didn't need anymore problems regarding devils and spirits. He was already comfortable now, and he had thought that nothing would ruin his life now, after all that had happened before. But with that phone call, he wondered if the worst had really come to past... Well, at least he rejected the mission. Maybe those two would never bother him again. EVER...

A knock on the door had attracted Keima's attention, and, with his fragile mind clear from devils and supernatural creatures, he went down the stairs to meet the person, thinking that his mother had opened the door. Instead, he found that Eri had opened the door, having come downstairs to get a drink for Chihiro, and her face was filled with surprise and shock. Puzzled by her expression, Keima walked one step closer to see the second visitor's face, and the moment he saw the face, he stopped dead in his tracks, his face knotting into the same expression as his sister.

"Okay," Nora, the devil district chief, cut off her Spirit Sensor transmission, "After opening the door, abduct Keima and bring him to the 'usual spot'. That sounds fun." With a small grin of satisfaction, Nora swiftly pushed Eri away, extending her arm as she ran to grab Keima, but before she did, he raised a hand, signaling her to stop, and, surprisingly, she did. "Let me do something first." Waving his hand to his sister, he coaxed her to come closer. Looking away, he went behind the counter and started to, in a random choice of available actions, make coffee; he was really good at it, too. After finishing two cups of aromatic brew, he placed them on a tray and handed it to Eri, all while Nora watched, puzzled by his erratic form of action; who would expect someone to brew coffee for another guest while someone was trying to abduct him? After seeing his sister leave, he went back to face Nora, and, holding his hands up defenselessly, he muttered, "Well, do it." Again, Nora stared down at him, confused and speechless. This boy had dared to ignore her presence for the whole time until now, and he was just giving himself away? How inconsiderate! "Come on, abduct me already." The calmness of his voice simply gobsmacked her.  
"Um, okay?" Grabbing both his hands, she immediately flew out of the house through the door, with Keima in tow.

"So, how's it going with you and Ryo Asama?" Keima asked as he felt the wind gently smacked his face.  
"Why do you sound like we're going out?" she hastily replied, before properly answering, "That idiot's still my partner, and he still keeps following me around. He's right there, you know?"

Looking at where she pointed her hand, Keima noticed a man on the road vigorously waving his hands at the two. He had a large, mischievous smile on his face as he held up a pair of binoculars to his eyes, certainly watching the two as they flew in the air. It was by pure luck that no one was around the area, or else, by the sheer embarrassment from going around with an idiot who waved at nothing for no reason at all, Nora would never come out of New Hell to walk the Earth ever again...

Watching silently as he heard the silent cries of Ryo screaming 'Hey', his brain started to work again. If the Nikaido he talked to was the real Nikaido, then why would she call him? A mission? To think of it, she was working for New Hell; more importantly, the Runaway Spirit Squad. If those two were fully connected, then it would probably mean more girls to capture! Keima was already sick of capturing real life, 3D girls, and the fact that he had a girlfriend now had pulled him further from agreeing to her request in any way. He had wished for some time to finish all the new games he had that were piled up in his room, but that wish seemed too far for his Godly hands to grasp now. He wished someone in the world pitied him...

* * *

Strangely, Chihiro felt a disturbance in her heart. She felt an aching flow of sadness explode through her body, and that hurt her a bit. At the same time, Eri came into the room, but, to her surprise, her eyes were wet with held-back tears, ready to explode into a tidal wave. "EEH, WHAT HAPPENED, ERI!?" she screamed in fright, immediately helping her place the tray of coffee (smells like Keima's brew...) on the table and plopping her down on the bed.

"Wuuu..." Eri sniffled, "K-Keima's..." Of course, she refrained herself from explain to her friend the reason for her pitiful condition...

* * *

Setting the tip of his feet on the grass, he found himself facing the roofed resting spot he and Nikaido parted ways. Looking behind him, he could see the sea and the once tall rock still standing, albeit less gloriously. Turning to the wooden platform below, he slowly walked down the gentle grassy slope only to place his hands on the wooden railing. "This was where Chihiro asked me for tea for the first time..." he muttered, purposely loud enough for Nora to notice him.

"Oh, you struck a deal with a girl's heart? And I thought you already had more than ten girlfriends."  
Turning to the devil with the buxom body, Keima gave a glare and a soft, but impactful grunt which made Nora shudder slightly, both in surprise and shock. "You have just quoted the 'Harem' ending, the ending I was most afraid of and the one that I was trying to stay clear of the most. Are you trying to say that I am dating a large amount of heroines which would imply that they are all fighting each other for me?" Raising his hand into the air, he yelled as he brought his finger down to point at her, "Such an ending is indecent and insulting to me! There is one true heroine in every game; no one can breach that rule!"

The sudden declaration made Nora jerk in sheer surprise, so she kept silent, not wishing to anger him any further than he already was. He was infuriated, and his tone of voice and face confirmed that. His eyes, although tired, was furious, and his finger was unfaltering, as if it would point at her forever. His now-hoarse breathing slowly steadied itself, as he had used most of his breath to yell at her. At that moment, Nora saw what Haqua meant when she told her about Keima when she once asked her a few months back: A human male adolescent actually telling a devil off. This man should have been shuddering with fear when he saw a devil, and he should have also never dared to talk back to one. He was a strange, brave but ultimately game-loving human. That thought made Nora sighed at herself. Was she really not creating that scary an image?

"Hmm? Why're you sighing?" Keima asked, his finger now shaking a bit from the expense of energy.  
"Ah, never mind..." She placed her hand on her forehead and briefly closed her eyes, "Let's just wait for Dokurou..." When she opened her eyes again, she gave a light gasp of surprise, although she looked more amazed than surprised. "Oh, she's here."

Confused by her words, Keima looked behind him (in accord to where Nora's eyes were staring at) and found himself looking at Nikaido straight in the face, her body crouched down with the front of her feet on the wooden railing. With the sudden addition of a presence, Keima took a step back in surprise, his expression visibly shaken from anger to pure shock. How did she get here without any sound? Was it by a hagoroma? Did she even have the cloak Runaway Spirit Squad members wore? Examining her clothing, he found her wearing nearly the same clothes she had once wore during her time of being a teacher, albeit she now wore a hoodie jacket in place of her vest, patterned with little flames and skulls, and on her hand was a large scythe more ornate than Nora's. A mask was hanging on the side of her face, covering the left of her head, and it was shaped to look just like 'Dokurou Skull's' face; the face of the old Chief of Spiritual Countermeasures, or, more formally, the leader of the Runaway Spirit Squad. She still wore her old high heels, and the same pencil skirt she had since... As far as Keima could remember, surprisingly. The long thread of hair that dangled on the middle of her face, which somewhat made her face look chopped in half, was still there, and it looked the same as ever before. Her sudden appearance had surprised Keima a lot more than she thought. Giving a slight smile, she whispered to Nora and, inevitably into Keima's ears, "Leave, and let me speak to him."

Flinching at the command, Nora immediately left their presence, and the two were then left alone. Hopping down from the rails, Nikaido faced Keima once more. Silence befell the two. Keima was waiting for her to say something, and so stayed silent. Nikaido, on the other hand, was trying to absorb his omniscient aura. He seemed as confident as before, and as intelligent and analytical. She had already hypothesized that he had taken into account her appearance, and the fact that she was here. True, the two found it awkward, but the silence was as strong as an iron wall...

"ONII-CHAN!" Nikaido cried with pure joy and pounced on him, albeit with too little force to floor him. Tears streamed from her eyes, and, as Keima was trying to reply, she hugged him tighter, until he felt a slight pain on his waist and began to sniffle in happiness.

Still trying to adjust his emotions, Keima gave a quick reply by patting her head, but the feeling of silky hair on his hand caused his mental state to stabilize, and calmness came back into his mind. Giving a real, legitimate smile to her, he replied her with a greeting that touched those that heard him(AKA no one), "Welcome back, Dokurou... Welcome back..."


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you mean?" Keima, with his butt on the bench, sitting beside Nikaido, asked, his eyebrows raising to convey puzzlement.

"To repeat, the Runaway Spirits seemed to have converged together as a group," Nikaido explained once again, "And have targeted a small populace in the city of Tokyo, in one of the districts. I want you to go in and drive them out with your skills."

At the mention of the word 'skills', Keima already fully understood what she meant, and he wasn't happy with the news. She wanted him to capture girls one more time... The first time was intentionally his doing, as he learnt when he went back into the past, but now this conquest was fully uncalled for... There was no indication, no warning of it's arrival, and, with this arrival, he had been plunged into another bowl of troubles, stress, and excessive time consuming. He had to decline it, and fast. "No, I'm not doing another conquest with girls! Not anymore! I have a girlfriend now; I don't need to do this anymore!"

"Oh, Chihiro really did fall head over heels in love with you? I thought she-"

"Well, she took back her words. But let's not change the subject here; I, for once in this year, had too little time to spend on my games. I'm trying to pay back my gaming-time debt, and you can't stop me! I'm over with the Runaway Spirit Squad, and I want to live my life happily with Chihiro now! I've already found my true ending, and I ain't doing New Game PLUS!"

Nikaido's eyes glimmered at the sound of his complaints, and, with the click of a finger, she said to him, "How about now?"

Confused by her words, Keima looked around himself, only to see no change at all. He then started to think of what she meant. That was until he felt some sort of pressure on his neck. "No, don't tell me..." His hand immediately placed themselves on his neck, and, true to his horror, the pitch black collar was there again. The mobile guillotine that would chop off his head if he were to breach the rules of the Runaway Spirt Squad. For the second oh-so-dreadful time, he was a part of the Squad; as a buddy, a person helping devils drive out the spirits with their available manpower. Tugging his way into the collar, he started to cry furiously and desperately, "NO, I'M NOT DOING THIS ANYMORE!I ALREADY SAID I WOULD NOT CAPTURE ANYMORE GIRLS!"

At that moment, Nikaido stood up from her seat and turned around to face the boy. With her hands, she clasped his shoulder and yelled to him, "If you don't help, the Spirits will run rampant!"

"Then what about the others in the Squad?!"

"No one is qualified to do that work now!"

The sudden declaration had stunned Keima, and he fell into silent. What did she mean by qualified? What happened to everyone? "What do you mean...!?"

"I mean you are doing something no one in the Squad has ever done before. This is a dangerous mission, and I am assigning it to you, the best partner around. About Hanzo Academy... It's also a secret school for ninjas in training."

...  
...

What the heck?

At that moment, the portrait of two people sipping tea flew into his mind, with one asking it for it's name, as he had been intrigued by it's excellent flavor and aroma...

"Okay," Keima pushed Nikaido's hands away, turned around and walked away, "Today's a Saturday... If I am correct, 'Ghost, Ghost Panic: BOO! ' is coming out today." He had personally given up on his sanity, and was now running away, or more appropriately, calmly walking away and giving the mission to the hands of someone else more sane than him. He couldn't take it anymore... Life had turned from absurd to totally bonkers. Ninjas really exist?! Impossible! If they did, the papers should be filled with them! And to think of it, galge games with ninjas in them have gone down the popularity rankings for a while, so he was not interested in trying to do anything ninja-related. Even with the collar, his mind told him to just leave for the faraway lands and live like a hermit, never to set his feet back into this world called real life. Although he had seen the existence of devils, he could not agree to the fact that ninjas also existed along with devils. It just left a bad taste in his mouth. A really disgusting one.

As he walked away from the bench, Nikaido slowly watched his departure, silent like the wind. "You are the only one who can do this..." she broke her own silence, and muttered to him, her face a steel wall which was very different from her 'ONII-CHAN' self. "You have the power to play with the hearts of women, Keima. You can do this, I know you can. And if you don't..." she pulled out a small button from her pocket, and exhibited it on her hand; the button that would activate the collar and take his head.  
The sight of the button frightened Keima to an extent, even though he himself had already given up on his life. That was when the idea of so many games still being incomplete struck his mind like a bolt of lightning. And he couldn't leave his family, especially Chihiro, behind. But what could he do. He was torn from accepting his ex-teacher's request and his decision to never do it again. Then, a piece of information came into his mind. How was it that no one else could do this? What was so bad about the ninjas? Was the filling of the gaps in their hearts too hard for the devils? Was there some sort of secret agreement with the ninjas and devils to never bother each other? Theories flooded the boy's mind, and the more there were, the more unsure he became. Should he do it? Should he try and get the hearts of a few more people to save his life, and ultimately theirs also? His memories had made him remember the first time he met Elsie. He had an iron will back then, and said he himself would not do it, but he still did, and that led him to love Chihiro... That led him to look at the 3D world in a better perspective and for him to paint a blooming flower in every capture target's heart.

That was when it hit him. He had never fully considered what happened after he left the capture targets... What happened after that? Were their lives better, and, if so, by how much? How many lives had he changed that he never knew about. The fact that him conquering girls and giving them a better future had lightened his heart a bit, but he wondered if these new capture targets were worth the time or not. The fact that they were foreign people to him and the fact that he now had a girlfriend had pulled him away from saying yes, but the truth of Nikaido depending on his Godly skills had, deep inside his heart, flattered him. It was nice for him to at least get recognized by a person every once in a while, and that was not counting the people who gave him emails every day of the year, asking for advice for games.

"I don't know, Nikaido... I don't know if I should say yes or not... I think I'll answer it later. So, please give me time."

Hearing his own personal request, she nodded her head, and the two then parted ways, with the outcome being Keima in deep thought and his destination being the game store, and Nikaido watching, emotionless, before disappearing back into New Hell to wait for his answer.


	3. Chapter 3

Walking through town with a bag of games slung on his arm, he quietly played his PFP, his fingers skillfully tapping away at the buttons, while his brain was hard at work trying to find reasons to say yes or no to Nikaido's request. At one point of his walk back home, he found himself passing Maijima Private High Shool, the school he went. With one glance of the school, he continued his march home, unfazed by the influences the fine establishment tried to give him, but the sight of a certain bakery he passed through a few minutes after intrigued him. It was a small bakery in the shopping districts, and the sight of it still being open had tempted him to go inside, even though he could not explain the desire of wanting to go inside a store he remembered not going into before. After a short, silent and calm battle with instinct, he gave in to its desires, and, so, with his PFP still in hand, he opened the front door of the bakery, his guard down and his eyes still on the PFP. Even with his antisocial image, a person greeted him with a familiar voice, "Welcome to Boulangerie Patisserie. What do you want." Although not very welcoming, the person who greeted him had at least greeted a person playing a PFP with a bag of games in hand, and that itself was a feat worth his attention. The familiarity of the voice piqued his interest, and, turning around, he saw, to his surprise, one of his capture targets, or more precisely, the second target he ever captured: the once-rich, pompous and short teenager by the name of Mio Aoyama. That was when he remembered his time in Yui's body.

Through unknown circumstances(the theory of the spirit being the reason was still unproven), Keima had switched bodies with a girl by the name of Yui Goido, and through the whole capture, Keima developed a feminine side and Yui developed a manly side, which ultimately led to her capturing (In Keima's body) Keima (In Yui's body). Now she was, in some sense, a tomboy who dressed up as a man during her time at school. At one point during the conquest, he (In her body) stumbled upon the little bakery, even though he himself had no intentions to. He did exchange a few words with Mio, who had also been working, at the time, but the fact that he left her alone had saddened him slightly. Judging the timing, maybe now Keima could talk to her a little more and learn how far he had really changed her life and if his conquests really changed the hearts of the girls.

"Ah, Mio Aoyama, right?" he asked her, keeping a fake appearance of him never formally meeting her before.

"Oh, the boy who I asked how much bread I could buy with the change I had at the time, you seen to still be doing well." True, some parts of her rich influence was still in her, but her use of the word 'commoner' had seemed to be forgotten. Maybe she had, Keima thought, joined the community as an equal. "So what do you want?" she harshly asked again, albeit a little less impatient than before.

Quickly browsing the store to pick a product to make himself not look like a simple window-shopper, he continued to speakddq, "So, you are working here now. Is this job good?"

"Humph, of course! The economy is different than before, so at least I earn more now." Before? Maybe it was the time he first met her, when she had no job at all. Or maybe she got a raise? Who knows?

"Here," he chose a hot dog bun, and placed it on the counter, "This is what I'm buying."

"Hmm... So you prefer food for the commoners?" Okay, he immediately took back what he had said about her not calling anyone commoner anymore... "Don't worry. Many people here buy bread for the poor, and at least they don't mind when I call them commoners. The old lady behind the bakery that bakes bread loves me working here, so I'm happy anyway. I see good people everyday, and they like cooperating with me."

"Oh, I said too much, have I, commoner? Wait a moment," Typing into the counter the price of the bread, Mio prepared to state the price to the boy she did not know, but, before she could, Keima had already placed down his money (which had been the spare change he still had after buying the games), and, to her surprise, it had been the right amount of yens for the bread he had been purchasing. "Hmm, you have some flexibility with change, it seems." Accepting the money, she gave a weak smile, and unnoticeable blush and a whisper, "Maybe that's why I asked you about change that day..."

That day... It was quite a long time ago and was right after Keima had conquered Mio's heart. During a time of him and Elsie passing through the open bakery outside the school, she had approached him and asked him about change. Of course, Keima had to answer the silly, but strangely justified question of how many omelet yakisoba she could buy with that amount of money she had on hand. That was really a long time ago. Time really flew after that...

Grabbing his bread, he approached the door, and, hearing Mio say to him 'Hope you have a nice day' had made his heart lighten. Of course, he had to pull out his PFP at one point, and, as he grabbed the handle of the glass door, he looked back to her, and said, "I hope you have a good day too, Mio." And, as he set one foot out of the bakery and one finger on the PFP's buttons, he whispered to her in a soft, but albeit loud enough voice to be heard in the distance.

"The Ball Party was fun, wasn't it?"

At first, she ignored what he had said, thinking it was just some form of light, courteous flirting, but after some time of thought, her memories struck her like a wrecking ball. "Could he," she thought, "Have been the man I was dancing with during the party?! Wait, that mean-!"

Quickly running out of the building, she looked around the now crowded street, wishing to ask the boy one more question, but, mysteriously, he was gone. Maybe into the crowd? She was hesitant on leaving the store alone, and so, after some time of deciding, she gave up her search and went back inside, her question, maybe forever, unanswered.

Even with the sudden visit, Keima knew that, if he had given her too many memories, she would one day remember everything, nullifying the memory change the Runaway Spirit Squad had done on her. But he didn't care about that. At least he knew she was happy with her life. So maybe his captures had really made the lives of people better... Giving a small, sincere smile to himself, he turned around and walked back to his school. Just one more visit with a capture target will do for the day...

* * *

Opening the door to the indoor gym, Keima found himself in the same gym room he was in when he was capturing Kusunoki Kasuga. The new successor of the Kasuga Dojo, Kusunoki contracted a Runaway Spirit due to a gap in the heart; A feminine side of hers was competing with her more masculine side, the side that hated weak and cute things and adored the strong and tough. The battle between these two sides became so powerful that her feminine side had actually, with the power of the spirit, manifested itself as another, more ethereal version of her, that appeared when she did actions that are of a level of feminineness.

After helping her beat her feminine side (in a real battle), she kissed him, and, after his capture, had found a way to integrate the woman's way of life with her own fighting-oriented one, creating a balanced bond between both selves. Also, she had started to adopt the belief of 'the strong protecting the weak', and so she had started to gain an even larger reputation at Maijima Private High School for helping people by repelling the delinquents that bullied them. And that was all because Keima helped her come in terms of both her selves.

Walking into the middle of the room, he felt a sense of dread tingle his spine. Emptiness and silence had enveloped the room like an iron casket, and the absence of a presence puzzled him somewhat. He remembered, during his time with Kusunoki, that she would always leave the school quite late, and- he had checked his PFP before entering the school- she rarely left at this hour. What could have made her leave so quickly today? Before he could look for answers, he heard a small crash in the gym locker room, and, wondering if it was an intruder, he sneakily and slowly tip-toed to the door, and slowly opened the door. To his surprise, it was only a strangely familiar cat, sitting on a pile of clothes that had fallen from inside the locker; shirts, gym wear, pants and undergarments were scattered on the floor in a mess. Looking around to make sure no one was here with him, he carefully walked to the pile of clothes on the floor and extended an arm to grab one of the pants. But at the same moment, someone else's hand touched his own; hands that he once remembered holding. Looking up at the mysterious hand's owner, he found himself face to face with the heiress of the Dojo herself. Kusunoki, in the flesh, gave an expression of surprise before she pulled back as exclaimed, "K-Katsuragi?! What are you doing here!?"  
Not to his surprise, she actually remembered him, and the reason was that New Hell had only altered the memories of her only after Keima had joined the Women's Only dojo, and the fact that she still remembered him fully and in detail was because of the fact that he had went to her own family-run dojo to 'train' during his conquest for her sister's, fashion designer Hinoki Kasuga's, heart.

Still, how did he not see her? How did she not hear the door open? He quickly remembered the way he looked at the room. The place Kusunoki was at was behind the locker, where he was standing. Because of this, both of them could not see each other as they went down to get the garments, but how did she not hear him come in? Maybe she was too preoccupied by the fallen clothes, and her mind never noticed his presence. Who knows? Well, back to the main topic; with one clear of his throat, he quickly replied back, "So this is where you are, Kusunoki. I was looking for you."

Giving a light blush, she continued giving a face of anger and embarrassment as she screamed, "What is it? Why do you wish to speak to me, anyway?! You already rejected me as a lover, now you want to come back or something?!" At this point, Keima's memory recreated the scene of when Kusunoki proposed to him. It was after a phone call with her sister Hinoki, and, due to something he himself did not have knowledge of, she had to propose to him, but, with all his basic human rights prepared in front of him, he simply rejected it; with little remorse or care, just a blank expression in his face when he said, 'I'm sorry'. In truth, he had been trying to hide a blush, and somehow succeeded in doing that, but the outcome was him being punched away and gunned down with flowers. It was quite a bad day for him, let me tell you. The physical and verbal abuse he garnered in that one day was quite large by his standards, and on the same day, Kusunoki had never talked to him since. Until now.

"Well," standing on his two feet and straightening his back, he bowed down and said in his most-solemn voice he could convey at the time, "I'm sorry... But I already had someone else."

The words 'someone else' echoed in the elder girl's mind, and her whole body was stunned by the sudden answer and revelation of the once-unanswered reason for his denial. Sucking up a deep breath and breathing out calmly, she said to him, "Oh, I'm sorry also for not knowing..." Keima noticed a bit of annoyance and irritation in her voice, and his eyebrows perked up curiously at her sudden rise in anger levels.

Picking up the clothes, Kusunoki placed them nearly back into the locker, and continued picking up the more isolated pieces of clothing. Keima only silently watched as she took each piece carefully at a time, all while the tiny cat tried to climb up on to her lap. Before long, he also crouched down with her and picked up the pieces with gentle, feminine and accurate fingers. "I don't need your help, Katsuragi. You can leave. Are you not done with your apology?"

"Yes, of course," he nonchalantly replied, "But I have something else other than that."

Looking up from the floor, Kusunoki found Keima on his feet, his eyes staring down on her at the same time she stared up at him. She blinked in confusion, wondering as to what he would do next; would he tell her something she was not supposed to know? A secret of unmeasurable lengths? Hearing Keima suddenly take a deep breath made her put her mental guard up, as if she was afraid of the next letter that would inevitably come out of his mouth.

In a surprising turn of events, Kusunoki jumped back a bit when Keima bowed down to her knees, his hands on the floor beside his face, and his eyes closed.

True be told, this wasn't really the real Keima. He had, with his quick wittedness, crafted a plan to try and connect with her again, but not as lovers, but as a friend, or somewhere close to that; although he could have planned a bit more... seeing how his face was smothered by some woman's seashell-shaped bikini- let's hope it's not her's... With his most powerful voice he could muster, he said to her, "Can we still be friends?!"

Kusunoki gave a slight blush at his declaration of friendship, and immediately after he said what he had to say, she exclaimed to him, "W-what?! Aren't we a-already considered friends? I mean, even if I haven't talked to you for a while, it doesn't mean that I forgot all about you as a friend!" Those words made Keima raise an eyebrow, and his head immediately straightened up, and, with a queer, but innocent smile-another part of his fake persona- he asked her.

"Really? I thought you were angry with me?"

She replied with a 'no I'm not' and started explaining, "Well, my sister was the one who wanted me to confess, but she herself didn't know you were already dating someone, so I'm angry at her for putting me in this mess..." Peeling off the bikini from Keima's face, which was still embarrassingly stuck there for the whole time, she placed all the clothes into the locker and closed it while Keima watched in silent. Slowly getting back up, he patted his shoulder, dispersing the dust, and then said, "So, if we're friends, can I ask about that's been happening in the dojo?"

Peeking into Keima's direction, Kusunoki confidently replied, "Well, the dojo has new members, and I've spiced up the place with flowers."

Hearing this, Keima then hypothesized in his mind that his conquest for her didn't really make her as happy as he had expected. But before he could say that he had to go, Kusunoki continued her explanation. "Oh!" she said with more enthusiasm than before, "My cat had babies!"

Surprised by the news, Keima replied with as much amazement as her, "Really? Are they here?" Kusunoki gave a nod with a small smile on her face. Blinking in surprise, Keima asked again, "You brought baby kittens here? To school?" To his expectations, she nodded again with the same vigor, although even with the expected answer in mind, he couldn't help but stare awkwardly at her. To think of it, since when did the cat get a mate? "Umm, can I see the kittens, Kusunoki?" he requested.  
Delighted to hear his request, she told him to follow her, and so he did. Walking into the back of the locker room, he found himself staring at what seemed to be a door to a store room. By now, Kusunoki had gained back her cold aura, and, after clearing her throat, she said to him, "They're inside, I hope you don't make too much noise, because they're sleeping."

Silently turning the knob and pushing the door open, she allowed Keima into the storeroom. Marveling at the sight of numerous gym equipment, his eyes laid themselves on to a small plastic tray at the shadowed bottom of one of the shelves. Crouching down at the same time as Kusunoki, he stared at the marvel; there was a small cat in the cloth-ridden tray, curled in the middle of all the fabric and purring softly. With it's curled body, it hid six smaller balls of hair; little striped kittens, all snoring and cuddling on their mother in unison, seeking the warmth and comfort of it's beloved life-giver. The adorable sight made Keima freeze in awe, and, unaware to him, Kusunoki went down on her knees and crawled closer to his side, also gazing at the kittens.

"Cute, aren't they?" she quietly asked, and although her tone was more joyful than normal, her eyes continued to show a strong sense of sharpness and seriousness. She seemed unable to let her guard down after what happened in the locker room, and so as to lighten the tension, he placed his hand on her shoulder - which in turn caused her to blush deep red - and said, "Why don't you scoop one up to let me see?"

Surprised by his new request, she quickly regained her formality and answered, "But the kitten will wake up if I do. I don't want them to wake up from their sleep yet." Even with the answer, Keima stared at her expectantly, and, after giving in to his (fake)puppy eyes, she took one of the kittens, the smallest one in the bunch, and handed it to him. "Be careful, he's the least strong of them all," she whispered quietly to him, a great contrast from her masculine, strong self.

Looking at the kitten on his arms, he places it closer to it's chest, as if he were carrying a human child. With his hand, he started to rub on the baby's head, caressing it's little forehead with the gentle curls of the finger. He was quite contempt of the kitten's soft fur on his skin, and the fact that it purred softly in his arms made him look in surprise. Was he really that comfortable to the kitten? That thought made him unconsciously blush, and the sight of his face turning red made Kusunoki chuckle quietly.

"They were born a week ago," she said, "During my time here, the female cat started to give birth to them. It was quite funny, actually. We all started panicking, and when they were born, everyone started to overreact, so I had to send them away and make a bed for them. For the past seven days, I couldn't move them to the dojo, because I believed all my followers would start doing bad things to them, so I made their home here. I don't know what to do with them now, so I'm just leaving them here, feeding them cat food and water." Taking the cat off his arms, she started to cuddle it in a motherly way, "As I have once said, the strong protect the weak. It's like a mother protecting her baby."

The somewhat awkward comparison had made Keima blush lightly, as he had found it to be embarrassing to say for women, especially coming from Kusunoki. Gazing at her and the kitten, he found her to be strangely very motherly; she was gentle and caring to the kitten, like a mother to a child, and she was also careful not to let it drop. Her arms had actually made the kitten purr even deeper, indicating that the kitten had taken a preference to her smooth, although strong hands. She was also quite graceful at handling the kitten, so much that Keima gave a smile of respect to her, and even though she herself didn't notice him smiling, she herself was also giving a lady-like smile; small, but full of meaning. She loved strong things, and at the same time, cute things. Two contrasting objects, to people, are a chore to love l at the same time, but Kusunoki was quite contempt with her likes and dislikes.

And with all that he had seen, he had concluded: His conquest had definitely given her a better look on life. She was once headstrong and hateful on the weak, but now she was holding one of the weakest little thing on her arms, caressing and playing with it's soft head at the same time. She had gone far from her old self, and Keima was quite impressed by that.

And so, to finish his visit, he got up from the floor and said, "Maybe you should look for a home for them. Oh, I need to go home now. Thanks for showing me the kittens, and thanks for accepting me as a friend." As he turned around after listening to her farewells, he gave a subtle, surprised 'oh yeah' and turned back to her. Of course with the bag of games still in hand, he reached into it and pulled out a small container made of polystyrene. Placing it on the ground next to the curious heiress, he made his leave a second time with no distractions messing it up. "I hope I'll see you and the kittens next week," was all he said to her before he left the storeroom for home.

Blinking at the sight of him gone and then the mysterious container, her mind started to wonder about it's contents, and so, with audacious resolve, she placed the kitten on her lap for it's father to lick it, and reached for the foam container. Wondering as to why he gave her such a gift without staying to watch her unravel it's mysteries inside seemed like a small waste of precious time, so she wasted none of it and opened it. The white cream inside was not what she expected.

Soft serve ice cream filled the container to the brim, and, staring into it, her heart magnificently fluttered as her blush returned stronger than ever. She never knew as to why she felt this way after her trip to the Amusement Park with her disciples (actually altered memories of her with Keima), and she might never find out, but the sudden gift of ice-cream, from the likes of Keima, had made her think about him. The image of his face stuck in her head for quite some time before she could regain consciousness. By that time, the kitten had already been crawling on the floor, having fallen from her lap, and the father, being the protector of the family, had used it's mouth to carry it back to the bed. Her heart had started to pump wildly as she extended a finger to scoop a bit of ice-cream from the container, and as she did it, she was left with a nice, little white cotton-looking edible on the tip of her finger.

Giving it a light lick, her taste buds felt the full force of the sweetness, and she gave a quiet moan as she indulged in the great aftertaste. Could this have been why she loved the soft served ice-cream; soft like the clouds, but taste as strong and everlasting as a gemstone? Maybe she would thank Keima later...  
She didn't know why, but she immediately thought of giving him a kiss, causing her to cup her face in embarrassment.

Buying the ice-cream wasn't much, anyway. With the spare amount of change he had (even after buying the hot dog bread that was still in his bag), he had decided on what she would want best and what would have given her the biggest impact; just something to strengthen their friendship. It was quite strange, really. In the past, Keima was more than just an antisocial person; he boycotted the people of the real world and had the dream of staying in the 2D world. He just saw the real world as 'too imperfect, full of problems, unlike the game world', and he had stuck to this belief for quite some time until someone opened his eyes to the good side of the real world. The fact that he had to kiss more than ten girls was more than enough to change his mind, even though he saw most of the girls' problems as simple things not worth fretting. But that was all because he himself never felt that particular problem before. So was he to blame for all he had done, and not the girls?

Tapping the buttons of his PFP vigorously, he raised his head once he returned to his home's gates; two fences revealing a stone path up to his home's doorstep. To think of it, why did he stall time anyway? Why did his body urge him to buy games and talk to two of his capture targets, anyway? Was it an invisible force unexplainable by humans that coaxed him to do what he had done before? To think of it-checking his PFP once more-he found that he had only used one hour to do everything, from buying games to meeting Kusunoki, so there wasn't any large wastes. For now, all he needed to do was to get an answer for Dokurou's request, and he had better do it hastily, or else he would be say goodbye to his supernaturally-smart head.

Walking up the stone steps, he passed by the devil Haqua du Lot Heminium, who, after noticing him, stared at him in surprise, her arm deep inside the mailbox, presumably placing some mail in the metal object; she was stunned that Keima had only returned to his home just this instance. Stopping in front of the door, Keima turned the doorknob and calmly walked inside, never even noticing, or addressing the devil's presence. Haqua could only blink at how 'stupid' he had been not noticing her, but she knew she had to make her silent retreat after delivering the letter; it was orders, after all. Tip-toeing away, she never looked back to see Keima open the door again with a facer of surprise and agitation. With a loud voice, he yelled, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, HAQUA?!" Flinching at the familiar harshness of his voice, she looked back and retaliated with her own voice.

"Do you have to yell, Katsuragi?! I'm only here to put a letter in your mailbox!"

Marching out of the house, he stopped next to the mail box and stared into Haqua's eyes, causing her eyes to jerk away in an attempt to break the eye contact. Turning to the mailbox, he quickly opened the cover and shoved his arm in, grabbing out a letter from it's iron bowels. "Is this from Nikaido?" he growled at her, but the only answer he received was a hasty shake of the head which then puzzled his expectations. "Then who-?" Looking at the address, he found it to be from the little girl Airi Hinaga, the innocent child that always muttered sadistic, eerie child songs to them during his visit to his grandfather's village (he still had the embarrassingly bad drawing of a game girl on a piece of pottery in his room). During that time, her grandmother, Rieko Hinaga, had a Runaway Spirit in her, and, at the same time, Elsie had also seen a ghost outside, in the graveyard. Hypothesizing that the Runaway Spirit was connected to the ghost, Keima and Elsie went out to meet the ghost the next night(who resembled Airi), and, to their surprise, it was only Rieko's young self, during the days when she was a young, beautiful woman with many friends. She had a gap in her heart due to how lonely she was when all her friends had gone from the village, but with some exchange of words and Elsie's effort in convincing the spirit, she accepted her loneliness, and, without even kissing her, her own gap in her heart had, instead of mended, been accepted into her life, and the Runaway Spirit had harmlessly left her heart. It was true to him that gaps in the heart could be filled with his own advent of love, but it was only known to him, after some discussions with Haqua (over a game of 'Neo-Hellian Almagemachi-Na', which originated from Hell), that these gaps could be filled with any method; cure a person from a bothersome illness, enact revenge for the individual or even help that particular person to gain success, all these things had the properties of closing a person's gap.

Opening the envelope, he feasted his eyes on the large letters she wrote; three words detailing everything she had to say: 'I Love You!' It was quite strange receiving love letters from her every once in a while, but he knew it was just a child's petty feelings, not a smart, age-experienced teenager's.

"She sent the letter to New Hell again..." Haqua explained to the boy who was focused on the letter, "So, by Nikaido Dokurou's orders, I have to send it to your house directly." She, to Keima's eyes, sounded and looked quite tired, both from coming here to deliver the letter and from talking to Keima. She always seemed to be sick of him, in some way, and he himself secretly knew why. He wasn't blunt, okay? He knew the emotions hidden behind the iron walls of her heart. She had a certain tsundere style to everything she did when it came to him, and, with his knowledgeable brain, he hypothesized quite some time ago that she liked him. And he wasn't even surprised with it. He had thought of confronting her about the topic, but instinct had prompt him to wait for a better time; a time when the balances between 'good and evil' were perfect, and he knew that time would not come that quickly. Patience was the ruler if the game he was playing now.

"Haqua," he turned his attention to her, causing her to look up from the ground to answer his request, "Can you meet me tomorrow morning? At my house? I need to discuss with you a few things." As tomorrow had been a Sunday, he had decided to meet most of the other Capture targets, and, posing with a personality best fitting them, try to ask them about what had been happening since he last met them. The reason for this was that he had thought that it would help him answer Nikaido's request with a more appropriate response. Now, where his heart would lead him, he did not know, but he absolutely knew, with the voices of the girls he wooed, his mind would be made up and he would have a definitive, right answer for her.

"Um, okay, I guess." She gave an irritated face to him-presumably trying to hide her joy-and asked, "Can I leave now?"

Sighing at her own request, Keima replied with a wave of the hand, as if he was shooing a dog. "Okay, okay."

Turning her back to his house, she was ready to fly away, back into New Hell, but before she could, she felt the familiar texture of Keima's finger tapping her on her shoulder. Quickly turning around, she was unable to hide the blush when she realized the close proximity of his face to hers, causing her to jerk back and nearly miss what he said, which was also a simple request.

"Can you give this message to Airi for me?"

Blinking in surprise, she quickly asked, "O-okay, so what is it?"

And so, for the next minute, she heard his message, and formally promised him that she would write it and send it to the child, which made Keima smile with content. To think of it, it was his first time ever responding to the child, and the thought of her smiling at his message made him feel lighter inside, as if a burden had been taken off his shoulder. Today was not as bad as he thought.. He had seen the lives of two of his capture targets, and, seeing how they were better off without him, he couldn't help but feel accomplished inside. Maybe he could reward himself with a game review and walkthrough posted in his website.

...  
...

"Here, mom, I got this for you."

Handing the hot dog bun to his mother, she couldn't help but give a cry of delight and a tight hug for her son.  
"On, Keima, darling! You really do still love mummy!"

"H-hey, stop!"


	4. Chapter 4

Flying high in the air after a hot afternoon, Haqua set the self-proclaimed God of Games down on the concrete floor. With a light tap, Keima landed in Narusawa University, the school of one of his capture targets: Jun Nagase, the student teacher who went to Maijima Private High for a few days to learn teaching and an avid fan of professional wrestler Jumbo. When she first came to his class, she saw Keima as a child who detached himself from all reality (he was at that stage before), and had tried to bond with him, but all her failed attempts had caused a gap in her heart to appear and a spirit to reside in her; Keima was the very cause of her inner grief.

She was a literal, pushy teacher, going so far as using all her power to help any students in need of this 'help' of her's, although most of the time she pushed it too much, causing the person she was aiding to loathe her attempts. That was why, during her student years in Maijima, the basketball club had dissolved; all because Jun, being the president of the now defunct girl's basketball club, had took her friend's request of 'getting better at basketball' too literal. She had pushed her team so hard that, after they got sick of her efforts, they all left the club, leaving her alone to disband what she and her friends had all created. It was only after a few planned rejections, a plan that made everyone accept her ways, and a personal declaration of acceptance, that Jun finally kissed Keima, closing the gap in her heart and chasing the spirit out. And after all that mishap, she had left the school and went back to her university, having finished her training time and never to be seen by the other students (all because she hid in a mask every time she saw them) except for Keima himself. During his hunt for the Goddesses, he had paid a visit to Jun's own university just to confirm if she had a Goddess within her, and, after confirming she did not, he politely exchanged a few words with her and said his farewells, and, well, today was going to be his second meeting with the student teacher.

Hovering his hand in the space beside him, Haqua hastily placed a notebook and pen on his hands, a great contrast from the game consoles which he held every day of his life. His plan was near ready to set in motion. Walking into the university, he found the door to be unlocked, and, after some time of looking around, he, with Haqua's information gathering skills, found the library, which was still open for the students to use. In truth, he had already known of the university opening in Sunday just by seeing the students walking home from the school's direction during his usual trips to Narusawa City to get galge games, although he never knew they were students of Narusawa until one day when he passed by the school during a series of events where he had to go to a game store further in the city; all due to the fact the game store he always went to was closed at that day, the owner on a vacation at the time. The school, he believed, opened the library every Sunday to help students with their studies by allowing them to choose from a large selection of revision books and to garner popularity from the populace as a University/Public Library. It was quite a smart way to gain popularity in the people, and he had no objections to this school's method. Opening the door and peering into the large library, he immediately spotted Jun in the distant, reading a reference book and writing notes in her own notebook. She seemed to be fully absorbed in studying as her eyes were fixated on the many pieces of paper in front of her, although Keima had little time to go all googley-eyed at her efforts. Opening the door to let himself inside, he quickly approached her table and gave a light tap on the table with his pen, trying to gain her attention, and he, of course, did.

Looking up from her papers, Jun gave a faint gasp at the sight of her former student in front of her. Quickly looking around to see if anyone was around watching them, and concluding that there weren't, she whispered to him in a surprised tone, "What're you doing here, Katsuragi? How did you know-?"  
"Just a guess, I suppose," he immediately answered her without giving her the time to finish her sentence, "I'm here to do a school project: To interview a students in a college or university of his or her future expectations. Because my group didn't know anyone else, I chose you, Nagase-sensei."

His use of honorifics had flattered her somewhat and, although hesitantly at first, she allowed him to sit down in front of her for the interview, unaware that it was just a fake; there was no project, only Keima's own justified personal desire of checking to see if all the girls he captured were all happy and satisfied or not. Sitting down on the chair, he got ready his notebook, clicked his pen and started to ask, "So, Jun Nagase, what're you studying?"

"Um, before that, can I ask you a few questions myself?"

After raising an eyebrow, Keima gave a sigh, placed his notes and pen on the table, and replied in a uninterested tone; successful in keeping his intended image of a troublesome, problem student that Jun saw him, "Okay, what is it?"

Doubtful of his behavior, Jun began asking several questions to him, "You came all the way here for a project?" He answered with a nod. "Is anyone else coming here?" He answered with a shake of the head, which made Jun sigh in disbelief. How did everyone forget her?!

"I'm gonna explain a second time, the others already have people they know. Me and my group, which is only Chihiro, didn't have anyone viable at the time, so I suggested you," he explained.

Jun gave a faint blush of flattery at his words. She didn't know why, but her heart skipped a beat because of his words. It had been nearly two months since the two met around the University, and she felt some form of delight when she heard him wanting to speak to her. At least she knew a student she once tutored for a while still remembered her. "Where's Kosaka?" she quizzically asked, wondering where the girl with the near exact same hairstyle as Keima had gone? Weren't they both together as a group? If so, shouldn't the two interview her, together?

The question nearly backfired Keima's plan, as, even though he had filled the holes in his near-perfect plan, he had forgot to emphasize on a reason on Chihiro's absence; a great flaw in the Game God's mind that could have caused his life! Quickly arranging his words, he stuttered to her, "Um, well... She couldn't come because-"

Before he could finish his sentence, a familiar finger tapped his shoulder, and, when he looked to his back, he found Chihiro giving a quirky smile at the two, "Hey, Keima. Good Afternoon, Nagase-Sensei. Guess I'm not late for the 'interview'."

Utterly shocked by her sudden, unplanned arrival, he quickly regained his formality and helped her into her seat, giving a gentleman-like sense to himself. Jun, quite surprised by his actions, said, "Well, it seems you're friends. And I thought Keima was going to have a hard time doing that."

"Well, we're both dating," the ordinary girl bluntly stated, causing Keima to nearly choke in his only saliva and Jun to nearly jump out of her seat. Seeing how antisocial Keima was, her mind was nowhere close to ever thinking about him finding a girl of his dreams (or for the girl to find the 'guy of their dreams' in him), and his tendency to play games and ignore everything else had solidified her mindset of him being the most antisocial boy in Maijima High. One would not believe the amount surprise she had after hearing the news of him having a girlfriend; it felt like a myth that had been proven real. Although, even with all these thoughts swirling in her flustered mind, she couldn't restrain herself from smiling and chuckling at how lucky the two were. Looking at the two as they talked (actually, argued) about Chihiro's sudden appearance had made her smile a bit; Keima had started to open up to other people, and she was happy about that, even though deep inside, she had believed herself to be the one factor for his change. She had tried helping him change his lifestyle by coaxing him to talk with the other, even though she failed multiple times. Other than a few attempts, she couldn't remember if she had tried to do anything after that. One part of her wanted to find out what she did in between those rememberable attempts and after she left, but another side of her had pulled her away from doing that; the opposing had forced her to not dabble in those thoughts, and she helplessly had obliged to it.

"What the heck are you doing here?! And why did you just blurt our relationship out?!" Keima harshly whispered to her.

"Well, your friend Haqua out there told me of your plans, so I thought I'd drop by and help." And she said all that with a playful frown on her face...

"But with the addition of you in my plans, I'll have to revise everything!" he countered her enthusiasm, spitting out problem after problem, "And it was going quite well, without you."

"Really, then what's with you stuttering when she asked you where I was?"

Grunting at her reply, he massaged the bridge of his nose and, after calming down, sighed. His brain instantly went to work revising his plans. From every piece than made it's foundation, he threw away one in the side and angrily let the whole estate crumble into rubble. Sometimes, Chihiro just needed to stay out of his every once in a while...

"Isn't that why you fell in love with her?"

Keima ominously heard Yuri Nikaido's voice echo through his head, and instinct prompt him to shake it off, which in term literally meant shaking his head from side to side, unaware of the weird looks he was receiving from the two. "Well, come on, Keima. Just go with the flow." Sitting in a posture where she could face Jun, she asked with a considerate smile, "So, let's go back a bit. So what're you studying for?"  
Seeing her expect an answer, Jun consoled herself and calmly replied, "It's for a degree in teaching. Even though it's in the next few months, I'm just doing some early studying."

Hearing her answer, Keima straightened himself, picked up his pen and papers and started writing down every word she said, keeping up his original plan of the project. It then seemed to him that Haqua had told her nearly every part of his plan, which he had unraveled to her just this morning. She started to understand what she meant by 'go with the flow', and, after instantly polishing his plans with 'Chihiro Brand Polish', he went to work.

After some time of questioning, the two had thought that it was time for them to leave, and so they said their farewells and got off their seats, Keima still on the notebook. He had gathered enough information from her to conclude that her life was somewhat better than before, although that didn't make much of an impact to him. But before they could exit the table, Jun had called the two back, wishing to ask them one more question.

"So how's Nikaido-Sama?"

The question made Chihiro's eyes grow big with surprise. By now, her guard had lowered after seeing Keima's satisfaction and was about to leave with no objections, but the sudden question with the saddening answer had caught Chihiro by surprise. "Um, well, she resigned from teaching..."

The answer had, opposite of Chihiro's reaction, caught Jun off-guard. She had known Yuri Nikaido during her teenage school years in Maijima Private High School, and Yuri was her senior, so she held high regards to her actions and always strived to be like her; that was the reason why she took up teaching. The realization that her senior had resigned from teaching had saddened her greatly, so much that her heart started to pump even faster. Her mind became quite indecisive, and she didn't know what to do now other than to mourn for her lost in inspiration. "Oh, I see..." she silently muttered to her ex-student, her head bent low and voice weak and soft.

"Well, I still think you're a better teacher than her." Keima's voice went into her ears, and, surprised by his statement, she looked at him, and found him playing his PFP, having put his notebook and pen away. "She knew you were going to teach at Maijima High, so she gave me a message to tell you."

Looking up from his trusty PFP, Keima whispered to her the 'message' he himself crafted for his plan, "Be a good teacher for Keima, will you?"

The sheer strangeness of the message made Chihiro nearly blurt out in laughter, but she forced herself to keep quiet, noticing that this was part of his original plan; the one that he didn't want destroyed until SHE came along. Looking at Nagase, she found, to her surprise, her staring in disbelief.

"Although, to think of it, I might have already graduated from there once you start." Averting his eyes away, he lightly scratched his red cheeks before truthfully saying, without any form of lies or planning at all, "If I had a kid, I wouldn't hold myself back from having to send him to your classes..."

PROCESSING  
...

The two instantly blushed when the declaration finished processing in their minds. Jun felt her heart turn lighter, the message making her feel somewhat accomplished as a teacher. The message from Nikaido was of little sense to her at first; but taking into note how Keima was right about him graduating before she could start teaching, it had honored her somewhat. The message her senior had given to him, detailing the entrusting of her responsibility to the students' care, especially the troublesome, no-listening Keima, had given her the impression that Nikaido had wholeheartedly considered her a teacher, just like herself. And Keima's own personal declaration had caused her to blush, his form of flattery too much for her to handle. To be seen as a teacher, an idol, by the eyes of the the people he knew in the world made her heart skip a beat. As mentioned before, she had thought she could have been one of the factors that made Keima open up to people; that thought seemed so true to her now. On the other hand, Chihiro blushed at the statement that his future children would be in her class; it wasn't because she had any objections to his plan-she really didn't. Even with Jun's strict, idealistic form of helping her students, she was still a good, nice and fair teacher-she was only flustered by him mentioning children. At that moment, her brain made an image of both her and Keima getting married, then having children, and then turning into an old married couple, worn in with age. She felt like slapping herself because of that thought, although she refrained herself from doing something so embarrassing in public. Quickly regaining her composure, she added to Keima's statement, saying to the trainee student teacher, "Well, I-I would love it if you were our teacher..." She couldn't bear to mention the sacred word Keima had mentioned in his personal speech, and so rephrased it to not incorporate that word. Gulping down her saliva nervously, she felt Keima tug her shoulder, and, looking behind her, she noticed him calmly walking away from the two.

"We're done, Chihiro. Let's go." He said it so bluntly that Chihiro had questioned his true motives, but, noticing his 'signaling' glare when he turned back to her to repeat the same thing, she said her farewells again and quickly followed her own boyfriend out of the library. Left all alone on the table, Jun couldn't help but give a big smile at the two as she watched them disappear from the University grounds.

"Oh, you two..." she muttered, joy in her tone of voice, before continuing her studies. Today had seemed so unordinary to her, but the fact that two of her old students came to meet her had delighted her more than anything in the world.

Although, to think of it, how did the two even find her here?

The sun found it's way far from Narusawa City as night slowly crept up the Grandfather Clock of the world. Walking down to the train station, both Keima and Chihiro were silent, unaware of Haqua hastily flying above the two. Keima, who had his head averted from Chihiro's direction, didn't know how to break the awkward silence between him and her. He knew she was flustered when he started to talk about children, and, to some people's surprise, he himself was also feeling quite shy after what he had said. It wasn't because of the fact that it was embarrassing in any way (seeing how he had done more embarrassing things in his life), but he found himself fully at fault for the awkwardness between them, and the guilt he bared on his shoulders were, to his surprise, heavier than he had initially expected.

Chihiro, instead of letting Keina break the silence for her, was trying to find her own way of breaking it. She didn't know what to say at first, but after some thinking (and walking), she blurted out to him, "S-so, why're you doing all this?" He only responded with a 'hmm?' and a raised eyebrow. "Why're you meeting Jun? And what's this 'plan' you keep talking about. Your friend also doesn't know about it."  
Keima knew that, by friend, she meant Haqua. It was unknown to him as to why the devil would make contact with her just to tell her his plans. And what was the use of doing that anyway? It was not like anything big was going to happen... Unless...

"It's nothing really, I just wanted to ask Nagase-Sensei a few questions, that's all."

"Is that really your reason?"

"Do you doubt God?"

At that particular point, the two dived back into the blindness of silence. With his brain working quickly, Keima hastily came up with a reason for Haqua leaking information to her; it was to help give a bigger impact on Jun Nagase. When done correctly and precisely, the sudden appearance of a girlfriend can strengthen one's relationship with another, but, because of the large gaps where mistakes can very likely happen, he had, most of the time, found that tactic to be quite risky even for him. But with some quick thinking and a quick overview of Jun's history and personality, Haqua had pinpointed the perfect time for Chihiro's introduction as his girlfriend, and had executed it perfectly. Because Jun still saw Keima as an isolated boy who closed himself off from the real world, the advent of a relationship with someone else would have a big impact on her, especially since she was the one with the goal of changing Keima's antisocial style of living. With both Haqua and Chihiro's help, Keima had created a really durable, thick chain of friendship with Nagase; even though he was more specialized with love, he saw friendship as something nearly identical to what he had experienced every day of his life. It just needed a control, a limit and careful fiddling for friendship to work, and, seeing how Chihiro first introduces herself as his girlfriend, she had basically solidified his limit: to one that was unable to jump over the 'love gap'.

As the two found their way to the train station, Keima decided to get a drink from one of the vending machines. As he had a dislike for sweet food, he got himself a can of coffee and some grape juice for Chihiro, hoping that that would satisfy and quench her thirst.

But what was this feeling he had in his chest when he looked to the horizon that he called Narusawa City? Standing still and watching the sun set, his eyes finally turned his attention to the small Ramen store in the distance. A familiar store by the name of 'Sumire-Ya'. Before he could return to Chihiro, a memory appeared in his Godly mind, and he muttered to himself, "Sumire Uemoto..." Remember Chihiro, who was sitting on the bench not too far away unattended to, he quickly walked back to her and gave her the juice, and she happily accepted it, even though the awkward atmosphere was still lingering in front of then. As the two sat unmoving, Keima's mind quickly made up a critical decision that appeared not too long ago. Gulping his remaining coffee, he got out of his seat and replied to Chihiro's puzzled face, "Can you go back first? I have to meet someone else."

Watching as Keima ran off with a wave of the hand, Chihiro sighed to herself as she held her juice packet close to her abdomen. She didn't know why Keima was doing, but, sure enough, she was suspicious. But there was a saying in the human world that prompt her to stop thinking about Keima's peculiar actions: 'Curiosity killed the cat'. For now she wouldn't pursue her boyfriend to spy on him and his meetings, but she had to find his reasons for meeting these people, whatever it takes.

"Kids..." Chihiro muttered, and the idea of having a family with Keima made her start blushing a deep crimson.

* * *

Calmly running through Narusawa city, Keima reached his destination minutes after his departure from the train station (where Chihiro was still); a small ramen shop by the name of 'Sumire-Ya', run by Sumire Uemoto, one of his capture targets. During the holidays, he and Elsie had wished to eat ramen (by Elsie's request), but because of Sumire's 'taste-tests' (which meant eating all the shop's soup), they couldn't find a ramen store that still sold ramen, and, after some time of running around, they stumbled into Sumire's father's own ramen store, where they found out that she had a spirit inside her. With some arrangements, he devised an intricate plan; work part-time at Sumire's father's store so as to slowly become close with her. Later, he found out about the reason for her gap in the heart: she wanted to help her father in his ramen store, but because he wanted his daughter to have a brighter future than him and his ramen store, he continued to deny her request of working at the store. Wishing to impress her father, she asked Keima to test her ramen to see if they are worthy of her father's taste. By that time, Keima found himself walking into the dark, for she did not serve traditional ramen; she served 'sweet ramen', ramen topped with fruits and other sweet things, something Keima dreaded for the whole of her conquest. Through perseverance, he tasted all of Sumire's sweet recipes and, although he nearly died from diabetes (of course not), she made one that actually fit Keima's own taste, which she found as a great achievement, but her father had a different thing to say. At that moment, another plan appeared in Keima's mind, and, with persuasion, he had persuaded her father to taste a new ramen she made; ramen identical to HIS in both appearance an taste. Surprised by how she made ramen when she was never taught to make it, his impression of how she learned by watching had made him paint the original name, 'Uemoto-Ya' to 'Sumire-Ya', formally handing the store to Sumire. Joyed by this, she later kissed Keima as he went home, completing the conquest.

Keima considered her a special case. True, she seemed to have a route that was quite 'easy', so to say, but the advent of sweet ramen had surprised and caught him off-guard. He had expected her to cook ramen that was nowhere to his father's standards, but... sweet ramen?! Other than that, he found it quite easy to gain her trust, and with this trust, he had coaxed her to go the route he intended to go; tasting her food until her father was okay with the food. Well, as mentioned before, the food he tasted were more surprising to him than savory.

"Keima!" Haqua's voice echoed through his ears, and she, after stopping her invisibility, landed close to him, her hagoroma gently bouncing by the soft impact of her shoe and the cement floor. Her face was a mix between puzzlement and fatigue, mainly due to the sun, which had started to set not too long ago. It seemed to Keima that the the two of them had been in the library longer than they both expected. "Where're you going? Why did you leave her alone? Y-you really are bad as a boyfriend, aren't you?"

Sighing, Keima instinctively pushed up his glasses and said to her, "One question at a time, please."  
"O-oh, o-okay! Well, first off, where are you going?"

Stopping in his tracks, Keima veered his head a bit to the left, pointed at the ramen store and answered her question, "Over there."

Staring in disbelief, she looked at the ramen store, then back at Keima to mutter, "T-that store? You abandoned your girlfriend just to come here?" He gave one nod, his face firm and his resolve just.

"That store," he started to speak, "Contains one of the capture targets I personally captured. I wish to meet her to see how she is fairing, and to form a friendship bond with them." With his explanation finished, Haqua only directed another stare of disbelief at him. Even with this explanation, Keima had stopped himself from telling her that it was all about Nikaido's request. By visiting all his capture targets, he can both form a chain of friendship and also coax his brain to lean to the side of 'yes' or 'no' for Nikaido's request. It was all about seeing the results of his conquests on the girls he captured, and, after reviewing the results he had gathered, he had clarified that his conquests had a positive effect on people, all because he helped them solve their petty problems.

"Huh?" he raised an eyebrow on a peculiar sight. Outside the ramen store was what seemed to be an expensive car parked on the roadside.

"Um, well, this car's model's a Mitsuoka Himiko sports car," as Haqua explained, she checked the near transparent screen formed by her hagoroma, quite confused by the other things listed inside, like the body measurements, wheel sizes and engine power. Of course, coming from New Hell, she had little to no experience with any form of transport, other than, as Keima had predicted, boats, remembering how Elsie had fished for fish in a river in Hell.

"I don't really need an explanation on cars. I'm not interested on what it is, but on how familiar it seems..."

"What do you mean?"

"I feel like I've seen it before..." Ignoring Haqua's presence, he started walking closer to the store, opening the doors and entering a cloud of sweet smells; the smell of Sumire's signature sweet ramen. Gulping his disgust down (as he hated sweet things) he took a step inside only to be greeted by a loud, but surprisingly familiar voice, "Welcome to Sumire-Ya! Have a seat please!"

Giving a wide, cheerful grin in front of him, Sumire quickly directed Keima to the nearest seat available and pushed him down on it, forcing his butt on the hard plastic. Groaning at the sudden pushiness of the ramen chef, he noticed how the store was bustling with customers from around Japan, all coming here to test the fabled sweet ramen, although he found himself to be the unnoticed odd one of the group. Giving him a better look, she gave a gasp of surprise when she found out a piece of detail that linked the two surprisingly close together. "Didn't I meet you at the festival two months back?" she asked before eagerly waiting for an answer.

Staring at her smile, Keima couldn't help but stutter slightly. Quickly arranging his words, he muttered to her in a more lighter tone, "Ah, yes. I didn't go to your store, though. I missed the sweet ramen." Of course, that had been a complete and utter lie. Because of his own natural dislike of sweet foods, he had stayed away from the store after all the hijinks and disasters had passed that day, but it was also because he had grieved for Chihiro and her confession of love to him, regretting the fact that he denied her love entirely. It was all his to blame, he later believed, but he decided that it was all in the past now, and that he should forget about it entirely.

"Don't worry, I'll cook some for you! Now, we have ice cream and cherry ramen, we have..." and so, the lists went on and on. Keima was quite surprised by her wide array of sweet ramen, but none of them suited his tastes. He was in quite a bad situation, as he never had a plan to get closer to Sumire. It was quite different from Jun herself; he had a plan made for her before he went to look for her, but he was walking in the darkness of space when it came to Sumire, the sweet ramen chef. That was when a realization came into his mind; if he wanted to be friends with her, he needed to eat sweet ramen...

Keima's mental state suddenly molded and squeezed itself into a portrait of fear and disgust, the taste of something salty but turned sweet quite an ethereal and horrible feeling in his mind. But he had to do it. He had to form a bond between the teenage ramen chef, and so, after some time of thinking and identifying the ingredients of certain ramen, he believed he had the perfect answer, and so, taking quite a deep breath, he sai-...

"HEY, KEEP QUIET! CAN'T YOU SEE SOMEONE'S ORDERING SWEET RAMEN?!" an overly loud, but also familiar voice echoed through the whole store, surprising everyone; every one of Keima's hairs jumped in surprise, Sumire nearly tripped as she jerked in surprise and certain customers nearly choked on their sweet ramen as their muscles contracted out of instincts. Leaning on one side to see where the source of the voice came from, he gave an 'erk' of shock when he noticed who yelled in the small ramen store. Standing on the chair, with one leg on the table and a megaphone on her hand, the person turned her head around, gave a cheeky wink at the boy and greeted him with a mischievous but adult-like voice, "Hello, Keima-kun!"

"H-HINOKI KASUGA!?" Yes, by pure coincidence, the elder sister of Kusunoki Kasuga had suddenly appeared in the blazing battlefield of sweet ramen. A well proportioned woman in comparison to her sister(Kusunoki sneezed), she was an actress, model and artist that worked in other countries, but came back to Japan every once in a while, just like the time he conquered her.

Startled by her sudden appearance, Keima sat speechless as she waltzed to his table, leaning and placing a hand and her megaphone in front of him, showing her cleavage that had been covered by her clothes, before asking him with some level of suave, "So, how's you and Kusunoki, hmm?"

"W-well," he hesitantly replied to her, "We aren't together, sorry..."

Giving a light, sly chuckle, she narrowed her eyes into a seductive glare and hissed to him, "Oh, so you're interested in me? Is it all because of the KISS I gave you before I went away?" At the exact point she mentioned the word kiss, both Keima and Sumire's face brightened into a dark shade of red and the other customers again nearly choked as they started to eat again, some of them, who were filled with age, questioning how the younger generation communicated in the modern world called the Present. Sumire herself did not have an explanation for her excessive blushing, but-somewhat embarrassed about the thought of anyone watching her blooming cheeks-she cupped them and took a couple of steps back into the kitchen, wishing to take shelter inside until the two finished their little face-to-face exchange of words.

"Why are you talking about this in public?" Keima quickly tried to quiet the older woman, but, unfazed by his attempt, she took a seat on the chair in front of him and started to give him an ominous glare of hidden anger. And, although her face still gave an innocent smile, the boy knew that, inside her, her inner anger burned like the blazing sun on a summer day, one that had the strength to cause small wildfires. One would never see her excessive anger in the distance, but if he or she were to approach their table, or even just past by the two, the intimidating atmosphere would drive any creature away. Keima himself understood where her anger came from. She cared for her sister deeply, and seeing how she was rejected by a petty boy like him, he was sure she would 'pop a cap' or something like that; she would get angry anyhow, and armed with a very limited choice of paths available for he taking, he quickly devised an explanation to ease the tension between them.

"I know you are angry of my decision, but I only answered in that way because I have someone else."  
Surprisingly, she gave a weak sigh and rolled her eyes to the side. Placing a hand on her cheek and resting her whole head on that particular hand, she stared into Keima's eyes and said, "So, who's the lucky girl?"

By now, Keima was startled by how she had accepted the whole thing quite calmly. She had been irritated at first, in her heart, but now she seemed to have dissipated her rage, as if it had never existed before; although, unnoticed by Keima himself, Hinoki still had a small amount of anger left in her heart, which was something that could actually endanger or even end his delicate, human life. She, of course, had the blood of a martial artist in her delicate veins, and Keima acknowledged and respected her strength as a fighter, but that was only because he was never attacked by her in that fashion before. He had marveled at a sparring match between siblings during his conquest with her, and, watching as she overpowered her sister, his heart gave birth to a new fear; the fear of getting into a fight with this certain woman. Her strength seemed to be above her current body shape and posture. She looked so thin, so fragile and so beautiful that one would never expect such a delicate lady to know how to fight with such ferocity and skill, but with just her existence, she defied the century-old views of women being weaker than men. Such monstrous strength still made Keima develop chills down his spine, and that was saying something, taking into account of what he had seen after all the captures he had done...

"Well, her name's Chihiro, Kasuga," he hesitantly answered her question and quickly followed it up with, "I met Kusunoki yesterday and apologized. Now we're just friends. Happy? If you are, can you tell me why you're here?" Scoffing at his answer and question, Hinoki's attention shifted from him to her purse, the familiar hum of a mobile phone attracting both their eyes. Shoving her hand into her purse, she pulled out her phone and, seeing how she had received a message, started to read it, answerin him at the same time.

"Well, I heard how sweet ramen is getting really popular now, so I came here to try some. But it seems my visit's going to be cut short..."

Giving a smile of glee, she undid all she had done, rose from her seat and, with her last look at Keima, said to him with even more suavity, "Well, Keima-kun, Kusunoki calls. I'll see you next time." Swiping her voice amplifying tool off the table, she delicately shuffled to the entrance as Keima watched in silence, unable to come up with a farewell. As Hinoki reached the door, she quickly turned around, and, with her megaphone ready, she yelled just as Keima realized her intentions and was about to close his ears, only to be a second too late, "BETTER TREAT HER WELL, KEIMA! AND YOU BETTER BE A GOOD FRIEND TO KUSUNOKI!"

Everyone, who had their butts down to enjoy their own share of sweet ramen, seemingly jumped off of their seats, again unprepared for the ear-ringing roar of her megaphone. One man, of nearly the same age as Keima, started choking in his noodles, prompting another to try and help him remove the noodle stuck in her throat. Putting down her megaphone, she gave a light chuckle and said loudly to Keima, "Enjoy your sweet ramen, Keima!" And, as fast as she appeared, she disappeared from the store, leaving Keima and a few angry customers alone. Even though Keima didn't gather much information about Hinoki's life, it seemed that she at least respected and liked Kusunoki more than before, something he saw as an effect from his conquest. As he already had a certain obscure bond with her, he paid no heed in any routes to make her a friend; of course, with him being a good friend to a designer/actor/artist, it would be no big amazement that there would be a stir up of some form of harmless gossip in the common people of the world, although there would be a small, albeit contained uproar in his class if the realization of him being her friend ever reached the ears of mortal children. But then, to think of it, he was friends with Kanon, the high-school idol who sometimes visited Maijima for her classes, and, even though it was true that people were quite surprised, the atmosphere slowly dissipated after a while. In comparison with that memory, what difference would there be if he were to be an acquaintance to a person also flexible in the arts of, instead of singing, acting and designing?

"S-so...!" After Hinoki had gone out of the little store, Sumire had sheepishly shuffled to the table and had attracted the Game God's attentions with her shy voice, "T-that was Miss Kasuga, right? How did you know her?"

"Oh, we're acquaintances. I'm friends her sister also." He bluntly answered, expecting a surprised expression on her face. And lo and behold, she spoke in a surprised tone.

"H-hah? Wow, you really know famous people, don't you!?"

Smirking at what he thought was a compliment, he seemingly pulled out his PFP and started to play, prompting Sumire to stare in surprise and awe as her presence was seemingly thrown away from Keima's mind. Sighing, she was ready to ask the question of his choice of ramen to feast on, but, perhaps with perfect timing or just an instinct he developed after countless games, he cut her off with the answer for her last question, "I also know Kanon, the idol. And maybe you, too."

The vague hint of him calling her 'famous' made her heart flutter into the air, and his flattery had caused her to blush deeply. But, unaware that it was all just a set up for friendship, she unconsciously walked the path he intended her to travel. And he was the one that would aid her in taking the next step. Giving one silent look to Sumire to attract her attention, he then answered her, with a gentle voice, his sweet ramen of choice. Bowing at his request, she hastily went back to the kitchen, flustered and confused of this mysterious force that boy emitted, which her body had unknowingly surrendered to. Keima seemed so cold and ominous, and yet had such a dominant charisma-something he also developed during his captures to adapt and get closer to them.

Time quickly passed by, and by that time, his sweet ramen had come to him and he had already ate all of it. True, it was a tad too sweet for his tastes, but it's blend of flavors had lured him to continue eating and, ultimately, finishing it. Sighing with a full stomach, Sumire hopped to his table in joyous glee-seemingly forgetting what had happened minutes before-and asked him with boastful intentions, "So was that good? The pomelo works really well with the syrup, am I right?"

He answered with a small nod and a few words of his thoughts of the food, "It is better than Elsie's..."

"Who's Elsie's?"

"Someone I knew..." And by 'someone I knew', he meant his sister who changed her name when time shifted, making the devil the blood sister she was now.

"Well, at least you liked it." With those few words leaving her mouth, a certain memory had resurfaced in her mind, and the universal forces dictating the world prompted her to speak if it to him, "I remember then time my dad never appreciated my help in the store, but with the help of someone, I now inherit the store!" Pausing, she gave a sigh and her enthusiasm dissipated into a wasteland of mild despair and continued, "Still, I don't know who this guy is... I just can't remember him..."

Rising from his seat silently, Keima faced the ramen chef (who flinched at the sharp glare he gave her) and said, "Maybe he doesn't want to be remembered. Maybe he did all this because he just wanted to help you, not get the credit. Some people are like that. Maybe if you continue your line of work, he'll come back one day." His words of encouragement struck Sumire like a bolt of lightning. She had never heard such encouragement before, that her heart lifted itself from sadness and despair; a smile was all Keima needed for him to know that his bond had been created. Still, he felt like he had forgot something important to his plan; it seemed so close to him, but he just couldn't grasp it.

"Oh yeah," Sumire spoke, her spirit lifted and full of eager energy, "If you didn't know, my name is Sumire Uemoto, owner of Sumire-Ya!" Her greeting came as a slight surprise to the boy, although, with an adaptable mind and quick thinking, he composed and then introduced himself.

"My name's Keima Katsuragi. It's nice to meet you." Letting himself exit the table, his mind quickly reviewed all the events that had happened, and, to his inner satisfaction, he had done everything quite smoothly. Even with Hinoki's sudden appearance, he had still flawlessly became friends with Sumire and all he needed to do now was to exit the store and go back home. He had completed everything, and he had no business here in Narusawa city for now.

As he exchanged some farewells with the ramen chef, he exited the store, only to hear the cries of Sumire requesting him to come to the store again. Pulling out his PFP, he reentered the realm of video games, all while he walked on the streets, silent and all knowing (seeing how he could still remember where the station was without even batting an eye at the street...). And all thoughts was pushed out at that moment, his mind reserving space for the knowledge of all forms of GAL games.

"Oh wait..." He stopped in his concrete tracks, and placed a hand on his chin, an enlightening suggestion developing in his once-occupied brain. "I think I should buy some games..."

* * *

**Guys, I think I'll start posting every 2 days instead. I'm afraid some people just can't keep up with it, so I'm slowing down. Oh, and mind the spelling errors or wrong word usage. I wrote this on my notepad on my Iphone, and auto correct. Just... auto correct.**


	5. Chapter 5

With shopping bags on hand, Keima made his way home, his somewhat lifeless eyes staring at the PFP screen as he passed by the houses dotting Maijima City, unaware of his ever changing surroundings; in terms of the unknown, microscopic sizes, that is. He believed today's chores have been done without much problems, and he had justifications for the lowering of his guard; the fact that he believed today had no more bullets to throw at him was a natural thought. Give a man some work every morning, and he would do it all to satisfy his day's expectation, but give him more after his share of daily work has been done, and he would be unprepared for it. Keima had already believed that today would bring him no more meetings, although, it is as one wise man said: It is burned within us humans to believe that if something dangerous or of good fortune does not come to us, it would never happen in our entire life, even though it was the sign of it's increasing chance of occurrence. With this instinctive belief, Keima never expected any sort of mishap to happen on his path to home.

That was until someone sent an email to him.

Stopping and blinking in surprise at the sudden advent of the message in his life, he closed away his new game and opened the mail. Believing it to be mail from the followers of his website 'Fallen God', he got ready his fingers, but instead of questions on how to finish a certain game or ideas of what game to buy, he received a challenge.

'If you really are a God of Games, then how about we go on a galge game battle? Let's see how many games we can finish before one hour? I'll be meeting you outside the park now.  
Mai-Hime'

The title 'Mai-Hime' seemed so familiar to him but he knew that one who challenged the Fallen God would meet his gaming wrath, his typhoon of galge knowledge and his demonic aura of game clearing. "The park, you say? Well," he spoke to himself out of pride and frustration, "I WILL BEAT ANYONE THAT STANDS IN MY WAY! GOD WILL NEVER RUN AWAY FROM A FIGHT WOTH A MERE MORTAL GAMER!" At that moment, his brain spotted an important piece of information. "At the park? How did she know where I-?" Looking up, he found himself at the park detailed in the email, shocking him even more. Who was this 'Mai-Hime' who had challenged him? A stalker, maybe? A secret admirer?

Before he could continue pondering this mysterious question, he heard a tap of a shoe behind him; instinct told him to turn to his back, and at the instant he did, he found himself staring at a bench. More precisely, the person harmlessly sitting on it. With short, light blue hair, a PFP on hand and a attired in a simple Maijima Private High women's clothes (she always wore those even during the weekends), Fuse Aoba solemnly watched as Keima froze in place, the surprise in finding her here overtaking his bodily senses.

Veering her eyes away for unknown reasons, Fuse blandly requested to him, "Okay, I've successfully identified you. So, are you going to try and beat me, Fallen God?" Although hesitant at first, Keima quickly came through his shock, flipped the front of his hair and scoffed at her challenge.

Without even giving a hint of a smile, he hissed to her, "Well, let's see who can capture more girls than the other..." Replying with a dignified nod of acceptance, Fuse moved a bit to her right and patted the new space on the bench; the space Keima was suppose to sit on. He could, when he sat down next to her, feel a sort of mutual respect radiating off the blue-haired gamer, and, to compensate, he himself gave his thanks in the form of pulling out his PFP and giving her a glance. "Okay," he placed the bags of games in front of both of them, "Let's see how many games we can finish before the bag empties. I have already classified what game takes longer to complete, so all games taking more than one hour are in the other bag. All these games we are playing now have at least just one or two heroines that needs to be captured for the game to be 'complete'."

"Interesting. You are really insightful with your games, it seems."

Hearing this as a respectable compliment, he started to smile for once, and, with both of them staring at their respective PFP's, the two started their game clearing spree.

After exactly six games in his clear score, his attention shifted to Fuse's PFP. She seemed, to him, to have some problems or difficulty with one of the girls; a girl with a personality very close to hers, to his amusement and entertainment. Fuse was a quiet genius of Maijima High, and one of Keima's capture targets; Such a genius, that is, that by hearing just one lecture about a specific topic, she would already grasp the full concept of it and never use a textbook, and even without anything of the sort, with just one look through any book, she would remember everything in it, giving her perfect memorization. With all her perfect intelligence and the detached personality, it seemed that was the cause for the gap in her heart to form; she was just too perfect, and nothing seemed to interest her anymore. For many days, Keima tried to pinpoint the best route to take her with, from an athletic to professional gentleman point of view, but even with all of that failing due to her detached personality, the only thing that made a connection with the two was the fact that Fuse seemed interested with galge games, something she herself had a difficulty in playing. With some negotiation and her own personal pride as a genius coaxing her, she became, literally, Keima's disciple in games. After many days of consulting Keima on tips and game training, she finally fell in love with him and kissed him during his 'last lesson' with her. With her knowledge in games, she proved herself to the world, and a title was honorably given to her: 'Mai-Hime', for her extensive skill and knowledge in galge games.

Even with her quick fingers, Keima was always one game further than her, and Aoba was always one game behind. On his fourteenth and her thirteenth game, she suddenly spoke to him, "I remember the time I started loving games..." Raising his eyebrow, the God of Games batted an eye at her in surprise, wondering if she had remembered his conquest with her. "Someone with as much skill as you helped me love games. And that was at a time when all things just did not amuse me. I feel a close connection with you, but I'm unable to make it out as to why..."

Giving an internal sigh of relief at the fact that she did not remember him, he continued tearing through his game, and she resumed her game race. The two started to intensify with every new game, until their hands were nearly at the same speed as each other's respective fingers. But even with all this strenuous finger movement, the two never changed their facial expressions, nor even broke a sweat. Both of them had a serious face ironed into them, their mouths like iron clasps an their eyes staring like 24/7 security cameras.

At seventeen games, Keima heard a soft grunt from the person beside him, something he thought was very peculiar from her. Looking at her, he noticed that she had been playing the game he and Fuse had played last, before he fully captured her- this was a sequel. Although surprised by that revelation, he had also noticed how she had also stopped her fingers from moving, denying the continuation of the game like before. He didn't know why, maybe instinct or an inner attachment to her, but he said to her, "If this is about that 'person', I don't mind finishing the whole thing right here, right now. You have two choices now. First, sit there for eternity with that finger petrified and never moving, or second, finish that game and look for that person you have been desiring to meet ever since you started playing."

Somewhat surprised by his speech, she quickly looked away out of flustered embarrassment, in the form of a red blush. Even with the suggestion, her finger still denied any muscle movement, and they stayed in place, unable to comprehend the thoughts and memories the Game God had inevitably placed in her mind. Memories of the near forgotten past. "I-I just don't want to relive the moment we split paths."  
Fidgeting closer to Keima, she started to explain, "The person who helped me made me play this game's prequel before he left. I do have to say, I was sad when he said it was the last game we were to play, but he kept telling me to keep going, and he kept praising me for the right choices I made... I have never heard anyone say those words to me before. It's all because I'm too good with my studies, my sports and, well, everything else, that I never heard those truthful words of encouragement and praise. He made quite a difference in my life... I owe him my gratitude, but I just can't remember who he is..."

Turning her head to the listening Keima, she, for the first time he could remember, gave a wide smile of happiness and content, her eyes closing with glee. Her face seemed to glow in the light of the setting sun as her finger tapped the button as she spoke in her gentlest voice he had ever heard, "Well, 'Fallen God', your suggestion helped me quite a lot. Although it seems to be a tie today."

Wondering what she meant, he found out that the game she played had finished with that one button push. Quickly resuming his own, he found something he never expected. "Ah, I'm back to where I was before? It can't be... a game-breaking glitch?!" After some tries to bypass this irritating problem, he inevitably gave up on it, to his frustration, and reached out to get another game. But instead of touching another plastic edge of a game cartridge, all he felt was the familiar emptiness of air.

He had ran out of games.

And so, the two tied in their little duel, seventeen games for both, thirty four in all. It had taken them quite a long time to finish all those games, and, to Keima's calm surprise, the night moon was starting to come into view in the distance. After putting away all the played games into the overly-large bag, he looked at Fuse and gave a smile of respect to her, "You were really good. This person of yours has train you very well."

Flattered by his high praise, she got up from her seat, put away her PFP and extended a hand, as if awaiting his approval for a simple handshake. "You were a good opponent," she said to him, "Maybe one day, I will meet my 'master'."

Giving a light, nearly unnoticeable chuckle as he heard her call him master- she might never know it had been him all along- Keima muttered to her, "Yeah, one day, maybe you'll meet him again, Aoba..."

* * *

And so, the two shared their farewells and left the park, both of them walking a path on their own. Quickly reviewing the event, Keima chuckled when his memory reached her compassionate smile. It was quite a marvel to him, but to be able to see something so fascinating and heartwarming, he thought himself lucky and blessed. No, it wasn't that he had feelings for her; he still loved Chihiro, but his own love for games and her affection for the same thing were nearly on the same, Godlike level as his, which he thought was quite a sight to behold. She had gone a long way from being a world-detached girl into one who at least loved something 'Made in Earth'. He had done such a big thing to her life that he himself was impressed of his own achievement...

Suddenly, as if triggered by the forces of the unknown magnitudes, out of his dark memories a question of great importance arose in his mind. The issue of him being able to go to Hanzo academy reappeared in his brain, and he himself had never given the answer to Nikaido. He had embarked on this little journey to meet as many capture targets as he could, but even after witnessing all the good effects his conquests have done to these girls, he still had no answer to her request. He was just indecisive in this mind-boggling question. True, he vowed to never capture girls ever again to live a peaceful life with Chihiro, but with all the pressure on his shoulders, he couldn't stop himself from thinking hard on this situation. And even though the thought of 'ninjas' even truly existing until now had just seemed too far-fetched for him, he had actually considered going there for the 'transfer program' that Dokurou had set up just for his convenience. He didn't know why he had considered the thought so much; he already stated he didn't want to do it, but a compassion inside him pushed him to say yes to her request.

Somewhat confused by what he was to do now, his legs drowsily shuffled him back home while his head continued to ponder on the request of the year. He didn't know why but this request seemed so hard to answer. So hard, that his brain was still trying to find an appropriate answer; even after he arrived home during dinner time, his brain was still on full overdrive, causing him to ignore the existence of many things in the real world, evident by the fact that he tripped on a chair and still crawled upstairs without any form of pain or even any notice of him tripping. Both Eri and her mother became quite concerned to see their brother and son, respectively, climbing the stairs with his own hands, and not his feet. His sister also had to help him retrieve the games that slipped out of the bag during all of these events.  
When he reached his room, he immediately sat on his bed and pondered over the request, Eri watching him outside. After some time, he believed that playing games would calm him down, and so, by pure gamer instinct, he rose from his seat, startling the little sister, and walked to his six screen gaming computer and startd to play... But it wasn't long before his brain stopped craving for games and, instead, craved for an answer, something he was annoyed of. Closing his game station, he turned around and faced Eri. Gathering his words, he said to her with his head lowered in anger, "What should I do, Eri?"  
Nearly jumping at his sudden question, she wondered about it and replied, "What are you talking about?"

Rolling his eyes, his frustration built up in his body, and, placing his glasses down on the table for the first time, he massaged the bridge of his nose and explained to her what had happened between him and Nikaido, what happened between his meetings with his capture targets and other little things in the middle. Nodding to show understanding at his explanation, she then tried to give him the best answer she could get, "Well, Nii-Sama, I think you should calm down. I think Chihiro would be okay if you went to help those girls. And even of that, Nii-Sama also made all your capture targets happier! Chihiro also told me how you changed her so much. Last time she thought she couldn't anything, but because you helped her, she made the band and even sang on stage! And now you're her boyfriend, so she's even happier! And... Well, you've also shown me a lot of things... You made me feel like a real little sister, Keima. You showed me the world, you protected me and you accepted me. Don't you know how that feels, Nii-Sama? Don't worry, I'll keep mommy safe, and maybe the Goddesses can also help you in your captures!" Rising from the ground which she sat on, she went to him, grabbed his glasses and placed them back on his face, a smile nearly forming on her own.

Taking a small step back, she then asked him the most important question he, and most others, will ever hear, "So what's your answer, Nii-Sama?"

At that moment, his brain compiled all the information he had thought off and what he had said. Reviewing them, he surprised himself when he found that all the things he had were all positive things. His answer seemed so close to him now, but his brain was still unsure of the outcome. What was with all this indecisiveness, anyway? Well, it was something he himself did not know, but with some personal resolve and pride, an answer gradually formed in his mind. He would consult the girls with the Goddesses tomorrow, but now, his answer seemed so close to completion. With some persuasion, all of the memories of his past conquests came back to him like a nuclear bomb, and all of his cherished memories with the girls started to slap him on the face with the force of a moon slamming on the Earth; but even with this much force, it also felt gentle at the same time, like a breeze in the meadows with Yokyuun.

* * *

Immediately after the name Yokyuun came into his brain, his vision immediately morphed the room into a strangely calm looking meadow. Looking around him, he found his body in a state of what he would have called 'bad art', something that only a familiar game he loved could achieve. Looking beside him, he found himself facing Yokyuun, who stared back at him with a smile on her face. "Y-Yokyuun? Why are you here?" the child-drawn Keima asked.

"Well, Keima-chan, I heard your cries of help for resolving a request, and I believe I have the answer." Looking away from him to stare up at the sky, she explained to him, "Every heroine, me included, needs some love. You were one of the few people who gave me that. Do you know how happy I am for that? It's all because of you that I am happy for the world. But these girls with gaps in their hearts, you need to help them. As you have once thought before, all heroines need love; so do they. So what if they are ninjas? They are still human, like you and me. So, what'd you say, Keima-kun?"

* * *

A sudden shake on the shoulder snapped him out of his beautiful trance, and, somewhat dazed after that vision, he found Eri beside him, trying to shake the already trance-awakened Keima out of his trance. Pushing her hand away, he cleared his throat, and, to his delight, a clear answer appeared.  
"Okay, stop!" He angrily pushed her hand away, but also made a magazine on his table, one which he never noticed before, drop to the ground. Hearing the surprisingly unnatural sound of a book slamming the floor, he looked around to see the magazine, and seeing how it was only at an arm's reach, he stretched his thin arm to grab hold on it. "What is this?" he asked his sister, who had drawn herself into the corner to cry solemnly because of his supposed rejection of her.

"Wuu... T-that's m-mine... It's got t-two people y-you know inside..." Puzzled by her brief explanation, he promptly opened the flimsy advertisement book, only to notice two headlines that seemed to intrigue and surprise him. One article read, 'Teen from Misato Hisagi High wins Annual Interstate Shogi Competition', while the other, less minor one, seemed to strike surprise into him: 'Minami Ikoma, Maijima City's Future Swimmer'. Raising an eyebrow of joyous surprise, he started to flip through the magazine to find the particular articles, finding the first one faster than the second. On one side of the page was a heart-lifting picture of a smiling person holding a trophy. The two spherical shapes on Nanaka Haibara's face stared deeply into Keima's eyes, and her smile seemed to reason to the world that it was him who made her smile so wholeheartedly. One of the things that made her special was the fact that she had so much potential in this particular game named Shogi. Keima, had, at one point taken her as a 'disciple' (seeing how he was really good with Shogi himself), just so that he could get closer to her; she had a gap in her heart, all because she lost to his childhood friend, Tenri Ayukawa, or more appropriately, her Goddess Diana. It was all because of an innocent game of Shogi that Keima had to plan to the extremes a way to get her to kiss him. In the end, she got to beat Tenri (Diana) and also kissed him, closing the gap in her heart and driving the spirit out.

By now, noticing how well she was doing, it seemed that she had changed somewhat after Keima's conquest with her, and the fact that Keima was happy, and ultimately impressed, by her achievement had indicated to him that she herself had changed him in the dark inside of his mind and behavior. She seemed so determined to beat Tenri (Diana) that her determination had got to him; today was the day where she truly proved her worth in Shogi to him.

After he finished reading the somewhat exaggerated article, he started to flip the numerous paper pages, unaware of Eri's presence, and found Minami's own article. Albeit, it was smaller than Nanaka's, but he found her picture more eye catching; she was wearing her swimsuit, tailored for people of her size, and her face was more young, full of sparkling potential. Well, it was quite inevitable calling her young, seeing how she was only fifteen years old and a junior in Maijima. It seemed that she had gained a gap in her heart due to her lack of self-confidence with her future because of the fact that she was not chosen in the Swimming Club meet this year. With Keima's own philosophy: 'Being a Senpai is like being given a free Love Potion', he quickly proceeded to woo her, with little difficulty and problems in the way. After going to a festival with her, he got her to confess that she loved him, and the two shared a kiss with the night sky and the stars and moon watching them. In the end, she ultimately forgot him due to New Hell's intervention, but he still kept something that he thought dear to both him and Minami.

Rising from his seat and blatantly pushing Eri's presence away, he walked calmly and expectantly to a drawer behind his room, beside his tidy bed. Pulling the top drawer open, he started searching the inside, silent like the wind of Love of no tomorrow. Much to his relief and joy, he had found this dear object faster than he had though; although all said emotions in his mind was not conveyed in any way on his exterior. His eyes laid their once-forlorn gaze on a small water balloon yo-yo sitting comfortably between non-electronic equipment; a rare sight for Eri, considering his love for gaming and PFP's.

Pinching the end of the long cotton string signature for balloon yo-yos, he held it high until the bloated plastic was in front of him, where he proceeded to examine every smooth curve of it. Memories flooded back into his mind: strangely lovely memories of him with Minami during the festival. He could remember clearly how she blushed so red that day, the emotions she never shown to others rushing out in a wave of red. That thought got him to chuckle to himself, still unaware of Eri's confused stare.

Clenching his fist, his brain finally unanimously agreed on that one solution, and with all his might, he turned back to her and yelled to the world, or just anyone who was here to listen to him, "YES, I, KEIMA KATSURAGI WILL DO IT!"

"Now please pack the bags for me."

"Eh?! Nii-Sama~!"


	6. Chapter 6

"Oh, Keima!" Chihiro called with joy at the sight of her boyfriend approaching her, but instead of his usual greetings which she expected, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her up to the park on the roof of the school, much to her surprise. "K-Keima, what're you doing?!" she cried as she went up the steps to the roof, somewhat dazed and puzzled at his strange and new behavior. When the two arrived at Keima's destination, she, with her back facing Keima, quickly turned around and asked again with impatience and irritation in her tone, "Why'd you bring me up here?!" Her face had started to emit a red blush, but she forcefully tried to stop it from being visible; nevertheless, Keima still saw it.

"Chihiro," he spoke to her for the first time since she greeted him this morning, "I have to tell you something..."

Raising an eyebrow of puzzlement, she muttered a soft 'okay' and expected nothing from him; he did have a strange life, after all, seeing how she herself saw first hand how his capturing skills worked and his Vintage tried to capture him. She was, in most cases, also quite like Keima in terms of what they both saw, so she was ready to hear anything. Noticing her oddly calm demeanor, Keima had believed hat she was expectant of a sane answer, and so, with some hesitation, he told her everything, from Yuri Nikaido coming back to him capturing girls in a city not far away.

It did come as quite a surprise to Chihiro, seeing how her reactions emitted that sense of shock, but other than those few times she would show that face, she was strangely agreeing with the situation at hand, something Keima had not expected. After he had finished his long explanation, which he hoped would come to her clearly, he expected some form of a surprised reaction or something of the likes, but instead, Chihiro sighed in quiet disbelief, and took a step closer to him. Confused by her unexplainable response, Keima took a step back; although, after seeing her innocence and honesty in the form of her eyes, he took back his step and came face to face with her. He didn't know why, but he felt sweat start trickling down his face. Anxiety started to stir deep in his stomach, rising with it an agonizing discomfort. Keima's spectacled eyes stared into Chihiro's, and for some time, the two were silent, the both of then unable to make any reasonable replies to destroy the awkward silence.

"Well..." Chihiro spoke as her hand started to scratch the back of her head, expressing a sense of doubt to Keima, "I actually already knew everything..."

Shock and surprise filled every nook and cranny of Keima's frail gamer body, and all he could do to reply was stare with his giant eyes of amazement. What did she mean by she knew everything? Who told her!? All these questions floated freely in the expanse of his mind, and he was trying his hardest to, at least, grasp the concept of her words' meanings.

"It's all in here," his girlfriend handed to him a small, harmless envelope with a stamp resembling Dokurou Skull's face stuck on it's corner; a clear reminder of the now-deceased chief of the Runaway Spirit Squad. "I got this yesterday when I got home."

Hesitantly accepting the message, Keima opened it and read what it had to offer. To his awkward surprise, it detailed most of what he had said, but with the added touch of sweet talk, an attempt by the Squad to coax her to accept his departure. The last words of the message surprised him the most:  
'P.S. Yes, all of this sounds like a stupid lie, but if Keima come to tell you all of this tomorrow, will you be convinced?

Signed, Nikaido'

How did Nikaido Dokurou even know he was going to meet her today, anyway? Well, putting that strange and simple question aside, he was quite infuriated by the fact that it was not him, but Nikaido, who told her everything, and even worse, she had given her this message without his condolences and approval. He was ready to just shout into the air, maybe getting the absolute attention of Nikaido herself, but that volcanic anger of his dissipated when he felt a soft finger touch his mouth. Looking down (after his eyes had rolled up to the sky), he found Chihiro extending an arm at his face, her finger telling him to hush and walk the path of calmness. Her face was blank of any noticeable emotions, and due to this, Keima couldn't pinpoint the fact if she was being angry or confused or sad about the news.  
Noticing that he was complying with her silent request, she slowly swung down her arm and said, in her gentlest voice, "I actually don't mind... Just as long as you don't go getting another girlfriend there."

Somewhat dumbstruck by her odd response, Keima stayed silent and stared at her with lost eyes, confused. Blinking himself out of this surprised trance, he could not help but ask her of her reasons for allowing him to go. Chuckling in response, she replied to him in a jovial manner, "I don't know! My brain's just going with it. I know those girls have these 'runaway spirits' in them, and I know you're going away for quite some time just to woo them, but I'm still okay with you helping them, no matter the method. Just don't start cheating on me. Like you said, 'there is only one true heroine'!"

The fact that she quoted one of his own lines had touched Keima inside, but the surprise still lingered in him, surprise that he felt oh-too many times. Stuttering, he tried to reply to her, only to spit out a machine gun of 'uh's and 'um's. He was lost for words, and Chihiro could see that. "I-I think I'd better sit down..." his legs effortfully walked to one of the benches, seeking comfort, and sat him on its wooden planks, and the moment his body contacted the smooth wood, his whole body just flopped down to rest alongside his shivering legs. Chihiro could only watch and feel guilt in her words. Walking and sitting next to him, she, although hesitant at first, gave a light peck at his cheek some time after she sat down, and, with the kiss being uncalled for, Keima nearly leap into the air to crash down on the concrete roof, a fate he himself did not desire. His face grew red with embarrassment as the faint aroma of her hair lingered in the air in which she moved through and the smooth texture of her lips felt like an all-too familiar feeling for the Game God's sense of touch. His fear of people touching him had also resurfaced at that split second, creating even more distress and fluster for him.

"W-why did you do t-that?" he asked.

"Well..." Chihiro, who had started to look away from Keima, seemed flustered by her own actions, "That was my way of saying that I'm okay with it... Sorry if you thought of it wrongly..."

Sighing, Keima immediately moved closer to her, much to her surprise; but even after both of them were just an inch from one another, she didn't budge. She just sat there, trying not to make even a small amount of eye contact with her own boyfriend.

"I might not even come back for two to three months, Chihiro." As Keima turned his head to her, she turned her head to him as they initiated eye-contact. She started to pout at the thought, but her train of thought was cut when he continued, "My biggest concern is if you find another boyfriend while I'm gone... That is one of the possible routes that I hypothesized would appear when I'm gone."  
Giving a playful push to Keima's shoulder, which somehow nearly made him fall comically down the bench, Chihiro gave a light snicker and said to him, "I won't, Keima! As I've said before, I love you. And only you." Noticing what her words meant, he gave a light blush of surprise, as she herself started to burn red.

Shuffling his seating posture into a more comfortable one (and a more secure one, if Chihiro was to push him again), he said to her, "So you're okay with me going and kissing other girls?"

"Well, can I be first?"

Embarrassed by her sugar-coated words, his eyes averted their gaze from her's, something she clearly noticed. Seeing this as an opportunity, she silently leaned close to him, but before she herself could surprise Keima by kissing him, his arm wrapped itself on her waist and his eyes came back to stare deep into her's. With a low voice, he muttered, "Don't get a gap in your heart, okay?" Somewhat surprised by his own request, Chihiro nervously nodded in agreement, before both their lips gently crashed into one another.

* * *

"W-whoa..." After the short kiss, Keima was now on the ground, somewhat hyperventilating due to the surprise and sensation. "Not kissing a girl for a whole month really did something..." Chihiro only watched in awkward silence, somewhat not understanding what he meant, partially due to her being unaware of his huge number of targets.


	7. Chapter 7

"Keima!" Track runner Ayumi Takahara cried, as she traversed the roof, to the PFP-playing gamer, whom she saw in the distance, and started to run to him. Although she was the best in running, she wasn't the best in stopping, and due to the speed of her two legs, she failed to slow down, and in not even a second after she called his name, the two collided with much force that felt as if bones would've broke by the sheer power of physics. Quickly getting back to her feet, she started to apologize to the now irritated Keima, "Sorry, sorry! I ran too fast and couldn't hit the breaks!"

Feeling like he had heard that excuse one too many times, he grunted and yelled at the same time to her, Anger being the dominant player in his tone, "Argh, my PFP broke again...! Stop running so fast!" Ayumi Takahara: Maijima's prized track runner and Keima's first ever capture target. An unstoppable runner then and now, she developed a gap in her heart when she believed that she would not do as expected in a running competition that was about too happening the next few days. Still inexperienced, Keima had tried little to get close to her, but after drafting a plan to get her, he started utilizing Elsie's hagoroma to make cheering banners to try and at least get her to like him, but instead, he got on her nerves... Although, with Keima's knowledge on games, he quickly turned the anger into lover when he 'saw the ending' when she purposely tripped on a hurdle to avoid the competition; her own insecurity of self confidence and the pressure from the upper-classman had made her purposely injure herself, although fortunately though the injury actually did not impair her ability to run at all. After a confrontation planned by Keima, which happened after he sent her a fruit basket with her shoes hidden in it, she promptly kissed him after finding the pair inside, driving the Runaway Spirit in her away and closing the gap in her heart. During the competition, she had surprised everyone by coming first, all due to Keima's efforts. But that wasn't the end of his and Ayumi's relationship.

She and Chihiro had actually seemed help from Keima every now and then, but they didn't get any closer until Keima's journey on finding the Goddesses, in which he believed Ayumi and Chihiro had a Goddess within them; the only problem was only one of them had a Goddess. And so, he tried to capture both of them, but, after capturing Chihiro first and finding that she didn't have a Goddess, he insulted her and drove her away, all while Ayumi watched in secret. Due to this, Keima had inevitably distanced himself with the two, and, in an attempt to get Ayumi back, he, after an encounter with the rebel Hell group 'Vintage', got back Chihiro's partial trust and again tried to confess to her, which led to him going to various locations, all due to Vintage driving him to some other area, until they stopped at her house, where she tried to get him to go away by 'proposing marriage' to him, something which he surprisingly agreed to. Albeit, she had been wishing to listen to his real feelings and not a scripted one. In the end, the two found themselves on the ship at the Maijima Seaside Park nearby, and with some exchange of words, he got her to kiss him, bringing out her Goddess, Mercury, the most adept at unique spells of the group of Goddesses only known to him as the Jupiter Sisters. The first girl to be conquered, the last person with a Goddess that was to be awakened. She seemed quite happy-go-lucky most of the time, but deep inside, she liked Keima more than most would 'put their finger on'. True, she liked Keima, but, because of her status as Chihiro's best friend, she had unanimously allowed her to date him, albeit with some disappointment hidden inside her heart; but even with this barrier blocking their relations to rise any higher, she was still able to communicate with him with ease. She would now chat quite a lot, in his perspective, when they cleaned the class or park on the roof, although Keima was less than pleased with her chatty personality, as his desire of playing games would sooner or later take control of him, on which he would start playing his PFP behind her back, something he felt regretful of once she noticed...

"So," Ayumi hastily dusted her skirt and placed her bag down next to a bench, taking the straining weight off of his shoulder, "Why'd you call me up here?" To tell you the truth, Keima had not called her up the roof to just chat and loiter around, but to speak to her about the events currently at hand.  
Although, he didn't only invite her...

"Hey!" a distinguishable and very familiar voice and the sound of helicopter rotors in the distance flew into both their open ears, surprising both of them and denying Keima's rights to answer her question, "Over here!" In an odd turn of events, the voice echoed from the expanses of the sky, turning both of the young teenager's heads up to said location. At that moment, Keima's face tied itself into a knot of shock and surprise as his brain processed what his two pupils saw. Above the two, was a helicopter, it's majestic rotors spinning like the tops in the hands of children and it's radiant pink color noticeable to as far as the eye can see. And the most distinguishable thing on that helicopter was the pink-haired girl leaning with an arm stretched out, a smile on her face, and a voice for her greetings, "AFTERNOON, KEIMA-KUN!"

Kanon Nakagawa, the solo teen idol- whom had once been a member of idol group 'Citron'- with a rising fame, and Keima's third capture target. With pink hair and a 'I-Hate-Being-Ignored' complex, she was one of Keima's more harder conquests. She actually made the first move in the conquest, trying her hardest to be known to him; the God of Games who didn't really know her or her idol status, even after Elsie told him about her so many times. After many failed attempts to at least make him listen without playing his games or dozing away, she pulled things to another level: use stun guns on him. That at least made him aware of her problems and the dangers his life was facing. After praising her in an attempt to stop her deadly weapons from lashing at him, she somehow made him give her his email; something he knew he shouldn't have done... At the next moment, he was filled with messages from her; problems and silly mistakes that she needed comfort from, and who else could comfort her than the man she had been, hitherto, trying to make notice of. Keima's days after that were plagued with her emails, until one day when he found out that she had an even bigger problem than he had expected. Because of the Runaway spirit inside her growing stronger, she started to become 'invisible' when she thought people were ignoring her. During Keima's visit to her concert, which was still in the moment of setting up after 'seeing the ending', he found her to have ran away to a park nearby because she had been too shy about singing alone on stage for the first time. With emotional words of encouragement, he comforted her, and she promptly kissed him, closing her gap and driving the spirit out of her body to be captured by Elsie.

After some time, her Goddess, Apollo, had somehow awakened inside of her, and this awakening had revived her once erased memories of Keima, and so she sought him in his school and confessed to him, shocking the world (or at least the classmates around them). This sudden confession and presence of a Goddess brought the attention of Vintage, and one executive actually stabbed her in an attempt to kill the Goddess inside her. But she lived; although, to make things worse, the Goddess inside of her used a dangerous spell and placed her in a coma, and that was why Keima set on his journey to find the other Goddesses; a journey to find the Goddess Mecury to dispel her sister, the Goddess Apollo's, magic.

Rarely attending her school of Maijima Private High, she, to him, seemed kind and caring, and she always smiled, a dash of her own quirkiness mixed within it's emotional purposes; the smile she had at the moment was not deprived from this. Believing her to be very troublesome was not much of a lie, but her smiles and thanks in return to his words of encouragement seemed to have paid her debt Keima mentally imposed on her. Now, after one month, she would sometimes message him her problems, but that wasn't saying that she had started sending less than before. But other than her messages being somewhat of a time waster for a gamer such as him, he was still tolerable of her problems, and this tolerance had helped him to at least reply to her mail every once in a while.

Placing the front of her tiny feet on the smooth concrete, she hastily approached the two and continued to smile gleefully. Giving a more proper greeting, she immediately dismissed her seemingly-personal helicopter and faced the two. Silence fell on to them as the expensive transport left the air space of Maijima Private High, into the sunset. When it flew away from the sight of the three people, Kanon noticed the surprised and shocked expressions they had plastered on their faces. Keima's hair seemed to be even messier because of the forceful aura of the rotors, while Ayumi's were untouched due to the headband she had worn on her head, albeit the accessory seemed to have been pushed down to the back of her head.

"H-how... Where did you get that?" Keima stuttered, trying to find his voice after the unexpected method of arrival surprised him.

Giving a light but noticeable chuckle, she gave her quick explanation, "Well, my music's reaching out to overseas, so now my status is rising to super-star! With all the money my agency had now, they expanded and they even bought a private helicopter for me! I'm actually going for a tour around the world once my popularity peaks and once we have a private jet!" Then turning to Ayumi, she asked her, with an innocent tone, "So why're you here too? Were you also invited?"

"Eh, you were invited also!?" She cried with a startled disposition, evident to Kanon that she and herself were not informed of their double meeting. Or was it really a double meeting, as, in the shadows, another participant was entering the fray.

The silent creaking of the door failed to enter the ears of the three bystanders on the roof, and a young girl of a frail figure meekly snuck into the roof. Nervously shuffling to the three as the three discussed the situation thrown upon them, she stood behind Ayumi, unnoticed by the three people in front of her. Wondering as to what she was supposed to say, Shiori Shiomiya sheepishly gave a grunt, like the sound of a clear of the throat, to attract their unfocused attention: sure enough, it did.

Turning around, Keima gave a cry of her name in surprise as he found here complexion close to his own. Both Shiori and Keima then proceeded to take a step back from each other, Keima surprised by the sudden add-on of a presence he never knew appeared, and Shiori surprised by HIS reaction of surprise (surprise-ception). Quickly regaining his balance, he took a deep breath to ease his tension, and said to her, "At least you made it." She then fell silent. At that moment, Keima knew that she was thinking deeply to herself as of what she was to say to him. It was a habit that he got use to after his capture with her.

Shiori worked in the library, a quiet place where books are aplenty and the silence mesmerizing for those who visit the inner walls of it. She was comparable to one of this special places. Quiet and always filled with books to read(for herself), her love for books were nearly God-like in comparison to the people she worked with. As the school librarian, she was in charge of all the books, but her inability to speak properly due to a slow tempo when she talked and planned her next words given birth to her habit of overthinking things she wanted her to say, but not saying them at all du to doubts and due to people moving on to something else before she could properly answer. The advent of a school program that involved the disposal of some books, most of them she had secretly cherished, for the space of a visual and audio booth had also given birth to the gap in her heart, a space that invited all Runaway spirits to take shelter in. At one point of Keima's conquest for her, she shut herself in the library in an attempt to overthrow this campaign mentioned earlier, but, with Elsie's help, he found his way into the library and, after staying inside with her for some time and some somewhat embarrassing scenes involving the other students turning of the electricity just to reset a password to go in to the library, he kissed her, expelling the spirit from her body and mentally giving her the courage to start speaking to people.

It was not known that she had a Goddess until a time when, during his search for the Jupiter Sisters, Keima decided to borrow a book in an attempt to see if she had a Goddess, and, sure enough, she purposely and blatantly ignore him, indicating to the boy that she somehow remembered the connection she had with him, which also indicated that she had a Goddess within her. At the time, she had agreed to write a novel for the Mai High Fest, and so, with some careful planning, he found a way to make her give him permission to read her notebook filled with ideas and to allow her to write something about him-an ingenious idea she thought of after seeing some of his strange antics like cross dressing (to conquer another capture target)-and, after some negotiation, she allowed him to read it any time. After some time of writing, she found herself not writing anything at all, which shocked Keima to such an extent that he scolded her and told her to quickly finish it. For the whole of the second last day, she was identical to a blank slate, unable to think of any topic of relevance she needed to write about, and until the last day, she had requested that she needs one hour to write it all, even though it was still empty. After some internal argument involving the character of her story's voice, she isolated herself in the depths of the library to think and to get away from Keima for some time. After a short meeting with Minerva herself, she gained the motivation to write, and she ultimately wrote about herself, a girl who loved books and 'lived' in the library. And at the end of her story, she memorably wrote with all her heart and courage, 'And, I love Katsuragi-Kun.'

Sleeping after the what seemed to be an eternal writing session, Keima had found her some time after she dozed off, but when he approached her after reading her story, her Goddess Minerva came out instead, and, as he tried to see if she really was a Goddess, she went back in her and unintentionally woke her host up. Praising her work, she found out that he read the last sentence she wrote, and started making the excuse of it being just a simple lie, but, after she tried to snatch her book from his arms, he quickly kissed her in the cheeks, thus fully releasing her Goddess and allowing Minerva to grow wings.

Quiet, but always full of words, she was just a librarian, nothing more. A lover of Silence and Books, the library was her beautiful abode, full of knowledge and stories still to be told. Unbeknownst to most of the others, Keima had strongly respected her choice of dwellings, believing it to be one of the charms of her personality and handicap. As a shy, silent type, a library was the greatest place for her, and it seemed to have been ONE of the greatest places for him also. It was quiet; filled with the absence of sound, distraction and discomfort- something he would prefer over the outdoors any time. A great place to play game of any and all kinds, in Keima's eyes. Albeit she was somewhat of a shut-in, he knew, after some time, that all her actions were of good intentions; from the time when she enclosed herself in the Library, not allowing anyone to come in, to the time when she continuously denied the time she was given to finish her novel. She wasn't as bad as most would see her-she just had a problem when it came to talking to anyone. And he seemed to have found a new trait: she was quite good at concealing her presence, even when she was doing it unintentionally.

As this duel surprise event was unfolding, the two girls only stared at the appearance of the librarian. Was this really a meeting between the two, or was it a meeting between every girl he knew?! Cracking her knuckle, Ayumi stomped heavily to the boy, who had calmed down, and placed a hand on his shoulder, an aura of great rage emitting from inside of her, "So, what is it you ain't telling us, Keima?"  
Blinking as she watched the hassle, Shiori had no words to say other than the usual greetings, but the situation as of now seemed too off for such simple words. Looking to her side, she noticed the queer pink-haired girl standing at the side, looking somewhat confused. She instantly recognized her. "A-ah, y-you must be... Umm, Fanon? No, Kanon...?" Her voice was as quiet as a falling leaf, and even though she got her name wrong, the idol still gleamed in joy at her recognition.

"Ah, Shiori, is it?! Did you listen to the songs I gave you? Did you?" She had been referring to time not so long ago, when the Goddess had a small personal meeting with each other. Apollo had promptly given Shiori's Goddess Minerva one of Kanon's albums, unaware that she had been mumbling about the librarian's inability to like a song's pace, rather relying on lyrics sheets to make her own pace.

Nodding nervously, she quickly muttered, "T-the Memory of m-my First Love..."

Quite delighted by the remembrance of one of her pieces, she quickly replied to her, "Oh, that's the song the 2-B Pencils band sang during the Mai High Fest! The one you listened to was just my cover. Was it good?"

Sheepishly nodding in reply, she wondered if she should have mouthed the truth to her. Nodding, of course, indicated that she had done the said action, but in truth, she had done no such thing. She had, instead, read the lyrics, her own life-rhythm veered too much to the side for her to fully grasp the beat of her songs. It seemed too fast for her own pace, so she had herself print out the lyrics sheets, to read later at her own leisure.

Afraid that it would sadden her if she were to find out the truth, she kept silent of the topic, letting Kanon speak to her heart's content, "My new album's gonna come out next month, so if you want it, you can ask from me." Quite surprised by the generous offer, Shiori immediately nodded her head again, wishing to attain the album she spoke of. True, she wasn't going to listen to it, but, by looking at her lyrics, she always seemed to gain inspiration from the carefully placed words and the inner meanings from them.

On the other invisible hand of God, Keima had finished his explaining to the runner, and, to his expectations, she didn't seem convinced. "So you're telling me that you just want to meet us three here for a simple chat with our Goddesses?"

Fearful of the balling fist she had, he stuttered and said to her with the most confident face he could muster at the moment, "W-well, I didn't say only you three..."

"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!" Ayumi lashed her word blade at the helpless Game God, her anger not in the least diminishing. She had believed that he had wished to talk to her alone, with no interruptions at all; she went as far as to believe that he broke up with Chihiro and wanted to be with her... albeit, with his knowledge of 'love', he should have calculated, through mental algebra and instinctive geometry, that she was the right one for him, and no one else-so she had to cancel that reason out of hesitant but reassuring thoughts.

What Keima's words meant to her seemed vague in her mind, as she was unable to put her finger on the simple answer of 'there were more people coming'.

And, true to his words, someone else did come into the now-large, asymmetrical circle of genders. Unknown to those standing on the concrete above the concrete, a girl had been climbing the long flight of stairs, her little feet and shoes clicking as they pressed her weight on the stone. It had been a minute after she lost sight of her companion, Shiori, and Tsukiyo Kujyo limped tiredly up the steps with her intricate doll Luna on her hands. "How did she..." she groaned to herself, "Walk faster than me... And she even dropped her notebook." At the moment she mentioned the Librarian's precious notebook, the orange-blonde girl pulled the said object from between Luna and herself, marveling at it in the light from a window beside her.

Little Miss Tsukiyo Kujyo loved beautiful things before she was captured. Always up on the roof with her bench, her carpet that signified her own space of existence, Luna, and her telescope she used to watch the moon, she one day met Keima after he got kicked out of class praising Yokkyun, and, noticing the game character's disgusting drawing style, brushed it off as a doodle of little effort, breaking Keima's spirit and dispelling his happiness with Yokkyun. But the fact that the sensor on Elsie had activated had meant that she had a spirit inside of her, to Keima's annoyance on the fact that she insulted his favorite GAL game character. But even with his denial of giving aid, Keima's attention quickly shifted back to her when she mysteriously disappeared the next day, only to find her shrunk, due to the Runaway Spirit, in the Astronomy Club, hiding and using Luna's dollhouse as a place of lodging as of the moment. Agreeing to help her while in this shrunken form, he slowly started to bond with her by helping her with her daily tasks in which she was unable to do. A few days after he started helping her, he constructed a plan to make her panic and make her fall in love with him faster by creating everything larger with the help of Elsie and her a Hagoroma, simulating the possibility of her shrinking even smaller. He had planned for things to get bigger and bigger until she was rattled so much that she would rely on Keima in more personal things, thus creating an even stronger link between them that would get her to confess her feelings to him. Albeit, that backfired in just meet second after the first phase was completed, as she had been eavesdropping them as they discussed the plan outside. Disgusted by how he had fooled her for so long, she decided to run away from the two. After that, she ran around the whole school, until she reached the roof where she watched the moon's reflection on another building's glass roof. Keima quickly found her, and tried to tell her to come back, albeit she took one too many steps back, causing her to fall. Keima quickly went down with her, and, after a very quick exchange of words in the air, she succumbed to her feelings and kissed him, only to be saved by Elsie later. After that, she seemed to change very little, other than the fact that she stopped using her carpet, which pleased Keima somewhat when he came to check on her new views of life.

Sometimes ignorant of those she considers not beautiful, she was still a soft person inside, wishing child-like dreams like going to the moon to live with her doll. Her lack of attention to those she deemed unworthy of it stemmed from her divorced family; she believed humans were imperfect, and the fact that they always bickered against each other made her see emotions as ugly, causing her to live her life indulging in what she thought as beautiful. She had a sad childhood, and Keima pitied her deep in his shadowed heart- what would he himself be if his parents were to be like her's? With what she had seen, she must be devastated of the world in general; but she was still kind to him, and in the present time, whenever he felt like peering at her telescope or have a cup of tea, she would delightfully agree to his request with no form of backlash, all because she loved him. But that was not to say her Goddess had that same view of him.

Unaware of Luna's sudden glowing state, she heard the voice of her Goddess, Vulcan speak to her in a voice shrouded in ethereal mystery and, strangely, embarrassment.

"Well, to answer your question, Minerva was faster than us when it came to running..."

"How's that possible? And if it was her, why didn't Shiori become smaller?" she replied with another question, unconvinced by her somewhat puzzling answer. How did that Goddess-frail and meek like a child-even became faster than her?

"She runs quite fast when something urgent happens, or when she's trying to run away from something. She is not very quick with her wings, sadly. And, true, she did not transform, but that was because, if I am correct, she partially took over her: it was only in strength, not body or mind. Could that be why she dropped the notebook without picking it up?"

Still feeling unanswered and blank, Tsukiyo gave a light sigh, stopped trying to respond to her Goddess and commanded her thin legs to continue up the steps, putting the notebook back into it's original position: between the fabric of her clothes and the opposing fabrics of her doll. The hard cover of the book didn't feel as comfortable as Luna's soft dress, and so it was to her dislike and distress when she learned that she had to hold on it a while longer, as Vulcan had sensed a familiar presence above the stairs, near the door to the roof.

"Who is it, anyway?" the orange-blonde girl asked her Goddess, a child's curiosity urging her to find out the mysterious person.

"It seems to be Mars, but what I she doing up there? Was it not us who were invited up to meet Keima?"  
Quite stunned by her sudden arrival that had been uncalled for, Tsukiyo instinctively dove into a deep, although mainly short, trance of thought. The mystery in her mind was: How was it that, even though her contact, Katsuragi, had mentioned no one else meeting him in the roof, Mars-and maybe her host Yui Goido- were here, possibly meeting Keima at the same time as herself. And adding to the mystery of the appearance, Vulcan then blurted out her next discovery: "Hmm, it seems that she isn't the only Goddess around. Minerva, Apollo and Mercury are above us, along with Keima..."

And at that same moment, as if by the almighty power of fate, all three girls on the roof; Ayumi, who had her two hands on Keima's collar, which were holding him high in the air with as little as a drop of sweat, Kanon, who had been giving Shiori her contact just in case she wanted to seek her for the album one day, and the librarian herself, who had just been given the piece of paper containing Kanon's phone number at the time, had all turned their heads to the door leading to the stairs, where both Yui and Tsukiyo were. As if by an unexplainable voice in their heads (of course, it was the Goddesses) they all muttered their own versions of 'someone else is coming'. Opening the clasps known as hands, Ayumi blatantly let the boy experience the full force of gravity, letting him plummet to the ground before saying to the person who, she sensed, was behind the door, "Hey, come on out already. Were you invited by Keima also, YUI?" With his shoulders jolting at the name, Keima quickly wondered as to how she knew the cross dressing girl was behind the door; somehow, the idea of the Goddesses sensing each other never crossed his mind. True, he himself had no clue of her listening from the comforts of the behinds of the door, but he had predicted her to do that, probably to glitter-coat her entrance so as to impress him, OR to do something else that only he and she knew about.

Pushing the door open, Yui, with a queer bag on her arms, gave her own introduction in the form of a quirky and unique grin that only she could pull off: a mix between a masculine and a feminine smile. Flipping her short, front untied hair to the side, a reminiscent to those 'hot studs' in most commercials that she had seen quite recently, she started to readjust her newly-donned bow-tie below her neck, before confidently saying to the group, "Like the new bow? It suites me, doesn't it? And yes, I was invited, but weren't you informed of the others coming too?"

"Others?" Kanon cocked her head to the side, puzzled. True, there were a few others here, but how was it that only she was informed of the possibility of the others joining him today? True, it seemed that Ayumi, Shiori and herself were never told of there being more people coming, but the other question of why they came, was the connection between all of them. It seemed to not only intrigue herself, but every girl on the roof as of the moment, as the only thing they knew that connected each other was: One- They all were capture targets for Keima in the past. And Two- They all have Goddesses... Wait, that sounded very...

"Hey, where's Tsukiyo?" the cross dresser then asked, and, as if the little girl of the same name and identity heard her at that moment, Tsukiyo Kujyo burst through the door behind her, her face an expression of exhaustion after rushing up the stairs after her.

"W-wait, so you knew we were all coming?" she panted as she laid her one free hand on her concealed knees, the other still holding on Luna and the notebook. Now all eyes were on, not Keima, but Yui; what secrets she held must be known to the gathering now. Giving a playful sigh in reply, she took a deep breath of air and started to explain to everyone.

"Well, here's the thing, Keima set our meeting up. He knew that, being the fastest, Ayumi would arrive first, and Kanon would arrive second because he told her to come first, giving her enough time to make an excuse to her manager to come to Maijima Private High." Turning to the Idol in question, Yui playfully asked her for the excuse she had given to her manager.

Surprised by the truthful discovery, Kanon hastily gathered her available vocabulary and explained to them as honest as she could,"Well, at first, I tried saying that I lost my pencil box in school, but that didn't work. Then I tried saying that I had to meet some friends for a project, but she told me to cancel. Apollo took over after that. She somehow found a way to make manager Okada sleep with acupunctures..."

Everyone other than Yui replied with a wide-eyes stare of disbelief. They, truthful to the heart, never though that the particular Goddess even had any expertise in the arts of shoving needles in people's bodies, particularly on the fact of how careless and ditzy she was in comparison with the other, more capable and wiser Goddesses; weirdest of all was the fact that one could actually make a person sleep with acupunctures?! Somehow, Apollo seemed kind of like a stupid person with kindergarten education and short memory- hyperbole in the making- solving an algebraic equation that Stephen Hawkins, Albert Einstein and all other famous mathematicians could not solve.

It just seemed blatantly impossible...

"Okay," after the short chuckle session, Yui gave her quirky (albeit quaint) grin and continued, "Thank's for sharing that. Well, to continue, Keima knew that Shiori and Tsukiyo were the third and fourth respectively as you both mainly hang out in the library. This theory was confirmed when he visited the library during lunch time, but it seems that both of them never noticed him staring, and it seems both of them came at separate tiiiiimes..." Stressing two of her last words, she invoked surprise in both the girls before continuing her long explanation, "Well, inother news, I was suppose to come last as the big, BIG peacemaker, but it seems that that idea's been debunked. Sad, and I thought my manly peacekeeping skills would've come in hand."

"W-wait!" Keima's voice called out to the explainer, attracting the attention of all who heard it, "Shouldn't I be the one who explains everyting?! Seeing how I was the mastermind, you guys should have been staring at me for answers!"

Snickering at his feeble complaint, Yui replied to him, "Well, maybe it's because I'm more masculine than you now. And that's good, cos' I like it when you're more feminine than me. So next time, leave the talking to the MAAAAAAN."

Visibly irritated and embarrassed by her shameless statement, Keima balled up all his annoyance into one sentence and blurted out a carefully structured retaliation speech, "Have you even started wearing men's underwear, Goido?"

As planned, Yui's face flashed red as her more personal secret was revealed, and, in a split second, she had lost her masculine formality and retreated into the other side of gender-controlled behavior. "H-how did you know? D-don't say it so loud!" she cried in the voice she had abandoned so long ago.

"Oh yeah!" Ayumi gave a sudden gasp, prompting everyone to turn their heads to her, "Mel (Mercury's nickname) told me that Mars told her that you were recently looking for men's underwear, but you were too shy to wear one."

Then it was Kanon's turn to reveal the already known secret, then Shiori, then Tsukiyo's. By the end of the guilt free confession session, Yui had already been painted red, and was now trying her best to hide the blush with both her hands (albeit one was still busy trying to hold the bag), something not characteristic of her behavior and personality. With a slight amount of embarrassed tears gathering in her eye lids, she gave the most angry cry she could muster to her Goddess, at the same time pulling out her IPhone (rich people...) from her pocket to see herself in the reflection, "Why did you tell them, Mars?!"

And at that moment, her face on the mirror seemed to change. Her hair was now in one braided bundle behind her head, and, more noticeable, was the color change her hair went through: from her tea-green strands of hair, they were recolored gold; and, although the black screen was veered away from the eyes of the bystanders, it was known to everyone that Mars, the Goddess inside her, had appeared. The atmosphere itself also seemed to change by the Goddess' humongous power.

"Well," Mars gave her host her own grin, "You caught me. But let's not talk about that for now. Let's all ask as to why 'you-know-who' called us to come all the way up here." Tuning her eyes to the right- the side which Keima was, behind her- she asked him, "So, why are we here, Katsuragi-San? With all the Goddesses gathered here, I expect it to be something more than an announcement of war." At that moment, all eyes turned to the God of Games, who had stood up, and was now brushing the dust off his pants. Noticing the mentioning of his name, his body shuddered as he caught the glares with his defenseless body. Such glares of questioning seemed to stab through him like a rapier, and he felt the full force of everyone's puzzled anger (other than Shiori, who was rarely prone of explosive anger, and was too confused for it as of the moment).

Quick to composing himself, as his trait of adaption had dictated him, he answered everyone's questions with a simple, "Can you all project your Goddesses on a mirror?"

And so, silence befell them.

"Wait, wait, wait," Ayumi started to wave her hand in front of her, "You told us to come here just to talk with our Goddesses!? Did you know I had to cancel the meeting between my friends because of you?"  
Sighing, Mars quickly intervened in the angry rant Ayumi was about to give, "Well, if he wants audience with the Goddesses and their hosts, he'll get that audience."

But before anyone else could do anything, Tsukiyo hesitantly raised a hand, in hopes of attracting Keima's wavering attention. When it seemed that she did, she quickly said to him, "W-what's this all about, with the Goddesses!? Did you know how far I had to go to come here? Now I'm all sweaty, and I feel gross all over."

"Just put them in a mirror first. I'll explain everything later."

Tsukiyo fell into silence as her thirst for an answer was blatantly rejected. Giving a 'humph' in dissatisfaction, she pulled out a small hand-held mirror to finish Keima's request. Kanon pulled out a compact powder and stared in the mirror, Ayumi, sighing, was allowed to use Kanon's mirror and Shiori, having the Goddess that appeared all in her own, had no need for anything to reflect her image. And while everyone was preparing to project their Goddesses in their reflections, Yui was setting up a laptop on the bench, her face still a shade of rose red after all that she had heard. Looking at her with a puzzled stare, Ayumi called out to her and asked her for the reason of the laptop.

"Oh, Keima told me to bring this so that we could Skype with Tenri. It would take too much time for her to come here, so, calculating the time it takes to get back from her school, she'd be back home by nooooow~ with her computer ready."

"Ayukawa has a computer?" Kanon asked the now-sitting Keima.

"Don't ask me when she got it." He blankly replied.

Hastily completing the set up, everyone, including the shy Tenri, who now had successfully connected through the internet (super wifi), was now, again, looking at Keima. Having felt the immense pressure of the stares firsthand, he was now immune to it. Brushing it away, like it was nothing, he began to explain to his audience, "I'm transferring school."

...  
...

"That's all, folks."

"SERIOUSLY!?" Everyone screamed at the top of their enraged lungs, although the Goddesses, wiser than their hosts, were quiet, suspicious of what it truly meant, and why he called them up just to hear petty news? Albeit, that was not what all the Goddesses thought...

Yui's suddenly turned blonde, and wings began to sprout from her body. Although surprised by the sudden transformation, he was even more surprised when a blade suddenly came down on him, which he dodged through natural instinct. "What the hell are you trying, Katsuragi?" Mars growled to him, her explosive anger and her rude tone truly surprising everyone who saw it, "And I thought you were going to confess to Yui in front of everyone..."

"I already told you, I love Chihiro!"

"Oh hush it, you have wasted my time!"

But, as she again slashed at the God of Games, Minerva quickly took possession of Shiori's body and creates a force field around the boy, pleading in a shaky voice, "S-stop, Nee-Sama!"

And then, behind the raging Goddess, Kanon herself was then possessed by her Goddess, Apollo. Triangular markings appeared below her eyes, and, to most of everyone's surprise, she created a handful of needles from nothing, and said, with a demonic grin, "Did you know how much money Kanon lost from skipping her recordings? She has a family to feed, you know?"

"You're rich enough!"

Ignoring Keima's complains, she continued, "Well, the acupuncture Goddess of High School is going to leave you paralyzed forever..."

"Why is everyone so angry at me?!"

Somewhat awestruck at the sight of Apollo kicking the forcefield at the same time as Mars was slashing at it, with Tsukiyo and Ayumi spectating in surprise close by, Tenri didn't know what to say, other than watch in silence as Minerva tried to stop anyone from getting thei hands on the boy that she once admired. It had been quite some time since she met the boy, and her overall shyness to him had returned from the big blue. She wished to end the conflict, but she was still too sheepish to speak up to these people; people she met just one month ago. And worst of all was her lack of self-confidence when it came to Keima, after the glorious unravelling of the message he gave to her years ago during her grade school days, which said that he and she would never 'have an ending' with him. Indecisive as to if she should say anything, she heard the voice of her Goddess, Diana, speak to her, "Come on, say something to them."

Quickly shaking her head in reply, she heard a sigh, then everything went blank as the Goddess started to use her body. Clearing her (Tenri's) throat, she, with her red eyes, yelled to everyone in the other side, "Hey, stop squabbling, sisters!"

Surprised by the voice, the two once-irritated Goddesses turned their heads to Tsukiyo, who now had wings behind her back and a glow surrounding her body. Her Goddess, Vulcan, had taken control.  
On the unfortunately unfortunate side note, Tenri's computer had not acquired a working mic...

"Mars, Apollo, why are you harming the one who saved us from Vintage? Especially you, Apollo." Shuddering at the hearing of her name, Apollo quickly dispersed her needles into nothing, and stared grimly at her sister Goddess, "Katsuragi has gone through many obstacles to help your host out of that coma of hers, and you still dare to attack him? Have you no shame for this illicit behavior, sister?"  
True to her elderly status, Apollo immediately listened to her and carried out her wishes, stopping her momentous assault on the boy who was now somewhat cowering in the corner of the forcefield (although, where are the corners of a sphere?). Mars, still somewhat unfazed by her warning speech, only clenched her teeth and again swung down on the sphere of protection.

"MARS!" Vulcan's yell echoed into everyone's ears as her anger rose, and with her powers, she pulled the sword off her younger sister's arm and threw it to the ground. "Even though you are annoyed by the fact that this boy did not choose your host as a lover, you are not allowed to harm him in any way."

"B-but, you once said-!"

"No more, Mars. Now peace..."

"Well," Ayumi's voice suddenly cut in, "You are staring at the other direction, Tsukiyo."

Flinching at the fact, Vulcan quickly turned her back around to face her sister (albeit she was blind, so what difference did that make?), but now, with her face forward, she showed those around her the frown she had carved on her face. And also the red paint on her cheeks.

It was quite an oddity to Keima to see someone such as Mars to explode in anger; he had believed that she would not get that angry at the news that he was transferring. Although, it was true that he did not explain himself properly enough... But that was no reason to just lunge at him so suddenly, so what had enraged her?

"I..." Minerva started to speak, "I'm sorry, but she's been like this lately... You see, she's q-quite agitated by the fact that you didn't choose her host... and she also believes that you like her host the least... S-she didn't show her anger before, because she was holding it in. She gets very proud and jealous once in a while..."

Blinking in disbelief, he gave a sigh of relief as he saw Mars calm down and sheathe her sword. Quickly shaping his hair back together, he requested Minerva to put away the barrier so that he could speak to them, and, somewhat hesitant on his request, she reluctantly put down the forcefield, taking a few tiny steps forward so as to give him space. Standing up from the tiled ground, he cleared his throat and said to all who could hear his Godly voice, "Please, settle down." As if it were a command, everyone fell into silence. "Now, can you all please sit on the benches. Let me explain to you all what is truly going on."

...  
...

"Um, Tenri, I think your microphone's broken."

* * *

"So, you're telling us-" Ayumi muttered to Keima, a small amount of anger still in her tone of voice, "That New Hell just assigned you new orders to get Runaway Spirits out of girls in a place called Hanzo Academy in one of Tokyo's districts?" Nodding in reply, every girl that was sitting down on the benches around Keima, including their Goddesses, who were now in the reflective objects of choice, sighed as they heard the explanation. The idea of Keima transferring to another school for a while seemed so strange and ethereal to them all. And the strangest part was not even over.

"R-real ninjas?" Shiori, who had her notebook pressed on her chest by both her arms, muttered in surprise to the God of Conquest, prompting him to nod in reply.

"Yeah, it does sound weird, but they've got no one else that can take the job."

"And how," Mars spoke with a now calm tone, "Do you expect us to believe all this?" True, his explanation was shrouded in some mystery, and, even though he had explained it as far as he could, he was unable to convince the girls and their Goddesses about his current situation. But what else was he supposed to add? He had explained, with his current ability, all the details to the fullest, and they still seemed to be in doubt. 'What else was he to say, now' was the question he least preferred, in a situation equal to this one. Delving deep into his thoughts, he unconsciously allowed the girls to discuss their own thoughts about his problem.

"S-so, what'd you think...?" Shiori shyly asked the group that had now started to chatter amongst themselves.

"Other than that," Yui groaned, turning the attention of those around her to the IPhone she held, "Why did you get angry at Keima, Mars!? And I thought you were okay with him now!"

Turning away from the glares of her host's two eyes, Mars entered into a deep state of mind. She then asked herself the same question: 'Why did you get angry?'. Anger was something she rarely dared to touch, as she knew what horrors would happen if her unstoppable strength were to be released by the rage of a petty human such as Keima. To her surprise, her answer seems a lot not vague than she had expected; although, what made her answer vague was even vaguer to her. How was it, that the Goddess of War herself, was puzzled over something so petty, an issue that she always believe held an answer that was of little trouble to uncover. That was when a though, of great surprise, entered her battle-hardened mind. What if, the idea dictated, the answer wasn't in your mind, but your heart? After some thought and effort to find a suitable balance in this dark corridor of uncertainty, she found her answer in the darkest depths of her heart. Hesitant with her answer, she muttered to those around her, with embarrassment that seemed so irregular to her personality, "I seem to have been influenced by Diana..."

Although confused by her answer at first, Diana, still at Tenri's home, quickly realized what her sister meant and commanded her host to type out a certain sentence in reply to her.

Turning their heads to the laptop screen, the group saw, to their surprise, Diana's message. Taking up the piece of hardware to her lap, Tsukiyo did not waste any time to speak out what had been written, "Sister, have you, as have I, fallen-" she paused when she noticed what she was about to read next. Vulcan, with Luna's eyes, also noticed what was typed out, and she herself, in the mirror, flushed red at the words and quickly retracted herself from the mirror of the compact powder case in an attempt to hide the noticeable blush she had on her cheeks. Quickly gaining her composure, Tsukiyo cleared her throat nervously and cried out, "-IN LOVE WITH HIM?"

Shocked by the revelation, everyone turned their eyes back to the Goddess, to see if there were any reactions to what had been said and to clarify if the statement had been true. Although she chuckled in reply, the smile on her face was far from knowing it's identity. It was somewhat crooked, as if it were in denial of what it was; a smile of knowing relief, or segregated damnation. Quick to think, she said to the group, "Well, I seem to be as depraved as you now, sister, seeing as to how I also disregarded my host's wishes. This feeling started a week ago, during his coincidental meeting with Yui, one that she herself set up to try and get closer to him. He... He seemed so different when I saw him at the time, so... charming~! My heart then started to change, as Yui's had before. Spare me the complaints, for it was not my wish to love him just the way she loved him also."

"Unless..." Vulcan spoke, "Unless it is not you that loves Katsuragi-San, but some sort of link between your host."

Blinking in surprise at the never before heard of theory, Vulcan continued as she sensed the confusion in the air around Luna, "Well, it is like this. If I am correct, then it must mean that your host's feelings for Keima has integrated into your own mental physiques. If she loves her, you do also. Somehow, your bond with your host has strengthened into one of 'sharing opinions and feelings'. Although, the question of how this has happened still lingers within the minds of everyone he-"

A loud tap suddenly took everyone's attention by surprise. Turning to the source of the knock, it became known immediately to the people that Mercury, Ayumi's Goddess, had awoken from her little naps, and was now staring at the group with eyes of drowsy boredom, her hand tapping on the glass of the reflective mirror. After taking everyone's attention, the silver-white haired Goddess muttered to her relatives, "Exalted sisters, will it not be better if I explain to you the answers to your question." Giving out a loud yawn at the awestruck audience before her, she then continued, drowsily as ever, "It was all just a small experiment I had with Mars a week ago, before this 'meeting' she speaks of. It was a new potion I had made with my existing recipes, and, with some secretive espionage, I 'smuggled' some of it into her coffee."

"S-so that's why my Expresso tasted sweeter than the others!" Mars exclaimed.

"Well, well," she continued, ignoring the complaint her sister had brought up, "The coffee did not really help me with sleep, but what I gave to Mars seems to a love potion of some sort, or one that strengthens the spiritual bonds with one closely associated to those who ingest it. Well, the effects should wear out sooner or later."

"Sooner or later? When is that!? I could be falling head-over heels in love with him by now, and this feeling might never disappear."

"Do not fret, sister dear. It is only a matter of time before that emotion disappears."

"Umm..." Kanon's voice then cut in, "Shouldn't we talk about what Keima said to us? I mean, my manager's gonna wake up any time now."

"True," Apollo nodded her head in the reflection and donned a carefree tone in her voice, "I just learned acupunctures a day ago, so I believe she'll wake up in the next hour! Better do all of this flighty fast, before Kanon gets scolded!"

No one knew if they should be astounded by her skill in acupunctures, even after one day of practice, but they all knew what Kanon and her Goddess meant. Clearing her throat, Tsukiyo then spoke first, "Well, if this is all about getting more girls, then I simply must disagree with his choice of 'yes'. He has already kissed enough women. If he did more, he'd be grosser than the grossest thing I know."

"True." Vulcan nodded in reply.

"But," Ayumi suddenly carried the doll, Luna, as she replied to her, "He's helping those people, right? I mean, when he 'conquered' us, he made our lives somewhat better."

"Um, I'm right here..." Vulcan called out to the mortal girl, quite insulted by the fact that she had been referring to the doll that she had been using as her eyes and ears instead of herself.

"And," Ayumi ignored the Goddess' statement, "Chihiro knows about it as well, and she was okay with it. Is it right for us to reject it, now that my best friend, HIS girlfriend, understood the situation and actually allowed him to go."

At that moment, an awkward silence befell the little group of mortal and immortal women. Keima, who was still swimming in doubt and consideration, noticed this strange stopping of chatter and faced the group. Much to his surprise, he was met with eyes of annoyance; not from the girls, but the Goddesses, clearly in anger from not choosing their hosts as potential lovers. Sighing, he quickly proposed another, more calmer and more peaceful meeting between the group, sitting back down on the wooden bench in the progress. And so, with everyone in equal footing, he said to them, "Do any of you actually believe Nikaido's back?" Of course, no one who had been acquainted with her truly believed that she had returned, and that was of no surprise to him; if one person had took notice of how another individual they were of acquaintance were to abruptly disappear from existence without any notification or even a simple goodbye, it is mainly a human form of reasoning that had evolved inside of us that makes people believe that individual would come back soon, or never. And seemingly, everyone's instinct had sided with 'never'.

"Where is she now, Keima?" Ayumi raised her hand and asked, curious of her place of lodging as of the moment. She herself never had much of a core relationship with the teacher, other than the few times she was called to the staff room for some minor complaints about her uncontrollable running, so the fact that Nikaido had left had left little of an impact on her. But she had been a good teacher to her for the years she had been in her class, and she was grateful for that. Maybe this curiosity she had- this undeniable search for knowledge and information- was stemmed from the inner gratitude and appreciation she had for her.

"In Hell."

With a simple two-worded answer, Keima left in the dust the whole group of mortals, dumbfounded and puzzled at what he had said and the meaning behind it. Hell was the place for the dead, right? Then why would he say that she was dead, after he had said that she came back? A ghost, perhaps?

"Of course, I mean it literally. The Goddesses know about New Hell, right? Well, you can explain to them later, but now she's working there as the leader of the Runaway Spirit Squad, something I myself never saw coming. And with this new request concerning ninjas, I have to move quite far away for a while. I'm telling you this because I need some help while I'm there."

"What help?" asked Tsukiyo.

"Help in getting games, if the place I'm going to doesn't have a nearby game store, and help from the Goddesses: with their powers and expertise, I might easily integrate my presence and, ultimately, my existence with these 'ninjas'."

"That's the problem..." Apollo groaned, "In our whole lifetimes, we have only heard of real ninjas and shinobi only being active hundreds of years ago, so we don't know if they're still here. You could have met someone from Vintage, or worse, Satyr, that looks like Nikaido and is just making you leave the place so that they can kill or even enslave us!"

"Yes..." Vulcan nodded in agreement, "And also, how do you know that there really are real ninjas still 'lurking in the shadows', seeing how they could have disbanded many years before your own birth? And did you not explain that this Dokurou of yours has disappeared for a whole month? True, that is not long, but for a human that had connections with you and Hell, I do consider that she, who also had the task to help you help US in the past and present, might have disappeared from reality after finishing this task, and if that is true, then you must have met someone else, of same complexion."

"Other than that," Diana typed into the chat box in the program, "When did you ever dive so deeply about such a matter, sister Apollo?"

"Oh yeah, wasn't I an idiot? I said that once, right? Right?"

"Hey, come on, back to the topic here. I met the real Nikaido, okay?" Keima tried to argue with the group, but his argument went into deaf ears, as the others continued to talk amongst themselves, as if they were segregating him from the group.

"Although, if we actually consider it," Tsukiyo spoke to the group, "If it was the real Nikaido, can we actually agree to him leaving? I mean, this is a job he says 'only he can do'."

"Hey, Minerva! Shiori! You got anything to say about this?" Apollo asked the two shy girls sitting on the bench close by, one in the flesh and one just an apparition. As expected, the two went into a deep thought, considering what they were supposed to reply in the situation at hand, falling silent almost at the same time, albeit Shiori came out of her trance first.

"W-well, I think we need to ask ourselves if we're allkay-" realizing her sudden error of words, she shut her mouth and cupped her face, blushing in embarrassment as she retreated from the conversation.  
Minerva, noticing her host's distress, quickly assisted her by repeating her sentence in a clearer manner, "A-are we all okay with this, girls?"

"No," all of the Goddesses, Mars and Vulcan specifically, and excluding Minerva and Mercury (whom had dozed off), immediately replied with spite and exasperation in their tone. They knew that, with the unmistakeable fact that he already had a mate in the game-oriented life of his, he was unanimously not allowed to kiss anyone else anymore. But the fact that Chihiro had allowed him to go and help these women-with the added criteria of not creating any additional secret relationships there- had seemed to make them somewhat reluctant in their hearts, as someone of a higher importance in Keima's life had already dictated his allowance to give aid. What would any good man, or woman in this case, do when one of a higher caliber and social status than them had already given permission to a specific person they disagreed to to do something that specific person had wished to do? Of course, there would be an internal conflict, between accepting the man's claim of permission or denying it; a fight between sharpened swords and loaded muskets and bayonets in front of the mind's owner's eye, but at the same time, not. These were the choices most would go insane just thinking about it, as most movies of the current era would have shown. And sure enough, these Goddesses, although strong in mind and body, still felt ambivalent of the universal choice that is 'no'.

"Oh, what ever shall we do?" Mercury began as she stretched her arms, having awoken from her dream, "When even his lover agrees to him, and us, just acquaintances to him, disagree? Who shall rise to the top, one special to him, or the collective presence of Goddess, and maybe host?" Such a trivial view of the situation seemed to surprise the others, but her statement also seemed to be reporting the situation right as of the moment.

"I-I think I'm okay with it." Startled by the acceptance of the idea, the group immediately turned their eyes to Ayumi, whose face was blushing lightly, "I mean, if Nikaido's really back, then I'm okay with it."

"Yeah," Kanon nodded, "I can agree with Keima about all this. He needs our help, and I'll happily give it to him!"

Shiori also gave her own nod of agreement, pleasing Minerva so much that it made her smile meekly. On the other side of the benches, Yui readjusted her bow tie and spoke, "Well, if Keima really needs us, we'll give him what he wants, because-" Turning to the boy in question, she gave a playful smile and wave, before completing her sentence, "I love Keima and I'll never give up!"

"H-hey, don't say it out loud!" he retaliated.

"Humph," Tsukiyo gave a face of irritation, "Even if he'll get grosser doing this, I'll let him off for once."

The sight of the girls accepting his decision seemed to delight the Capturing God to an extent, as his expectations automatically conquered itself as time passed between the group. If the hosts were the ones to agree, the Goddess had, if he had predicted correctly, no choice but to agree with them. They were in THEIR bodies, anyway, so of course they had the disadvantage of listening to their host every once in a while, and with Minerva and Mercury (supposedly) on his side, they could act like a sort of an influence to at least get them to say 'yes' to his call for aid. He needed all the aid he could, anyways.

Although he was still slightly flustered by Yui's sudden, and daily, confession, he had his reasons for calming down and forgetting that it had ever happened. And in a more personal context, he was in a state of concern as to why Tenri had been silent for the past while. Turning his omniscient, God-Like attention to the laptop screen on the bench where Yui say on, he watched a peculiar, but seemingly important scene unfold in her house.

* * *

Tenri, behind the laptop screen, gave a light blush as they all unanimously agreed to help Keima; but even with all the enthusiasm, she still felt blank with what she was to answer. It wasn't an internal conflict, so to say, but it was a fear of an argument with her Goddess, Diana, who, like the others, disagreed with Keima. Confused as to what to say, she turned around to look at the closest mirror in her room, and sure enough, Diana was staring back at her with eyes of possessive persuasion. She had 'no' written all over her, and he was transmitting all her thoughts to her, to Tenri's dismay. "Tenri," Diana hissed, "How can you allow yourself to let h-him off to this journey of blasphemy? He is going to make himself of more infidelity, and worst of all, he dares have the courage to ask for the presence of a girl who loved him for so many years but rejected her?"

"D-Diana! Stop it, why can't you just help him? Y-you all have powers right? Why can't you help him one more time?"

"I've already aided him far enough, and now I am here to aid you, Tenri-"

"T-then stop h-helping me and help him..."

Silence befell the two, and the sounds emitting of the computer amplified itself in the quiet room. Diana was shocked by Tenri's choice; why was it that, the girl who was denied of love from the man she truly adored, still allowed this particular man to do what he wanted? True, she herself had once loved Keima, but that emotion had long past her life; what she saw in Keima months ago, she had seen none of that now. Although she was glad this feeling had disappeared, she still felt jealous of Tenri's continued affection to him. Other than that discussion of her feelings, what was this force, this powerful force of mythical origin, that made her pity and consider her host's choice of action? What made her so absolute in her choice seemed so mysterious and strange to her. But, staring at her face, she noticed a stern glare she had never seen before on Tenri's face. A glare that spoke for itself: "I want to help him, and I won't be stopped." Such a powerful determination seemed to amuse her somewhat, and, considering her choice again, she found many holes in her own reason for disagreeing with him. For the many things she had done wrong in her eternal life, she felt this one to have the most impact to her and her host's life.

Sighing, Diana said to her, "Okay, but just this once. I'm already fed up with his kissing of other women."  
Gleaming at her answer, Tenri quickly typed down her choice: a simple yes on the chat box. Pressing the send button, she sent her opinion through the internet for the group to see. Satisfied, but at the same time quite tired from the energy spent on trying to change her Goddess' mind, Tenri flopped on her bed, breathing heavy breaths as Diana watched over her, displeased with her choice, but somewhat relieved that her host had stood up against her for once. Courage was within the shy girl, and it was growing plentifully, inside of her.

Maybe one day she would find the love she deserved, but for now, this courage to detach from her life now to find the man of her dreams is still just a growing bud; there was more tending of the plant to be done, but the first sign of the stalk growing it's yield was a great sight, and one only the patient farmer could marvel at.

* * *

"Okay," pulling out his PFP from his pocket, he continued his speech while his attention laid itself on the hand-held console, "It seems that everyone wants to help me." True, the hosts did agree to help him, albeit with a little hesitation every once in a while, but the Goddesses were the harder stones to crack. Due to some agenda against him, the Goddesses were unable to be persuaded to help him, but with some negotiations between the hosts and them, the road to actually going to help these 'ninjas' in the district in a city he only knew as Asakusa, Tokyo seemed less obscure than before. There was also the doubt of Nikaido Dokurou not even being the real Nikaido, but he quickly dissipated that thought by giving out more evidence regarding her appearance and how even Haqua, the self-proclaimed 'Defender of New Hell', seemed to side with the once-missing teacher, who now worked in New Hell.

Although, the concern of them one day retracting this friendly deal seemed to continue to dawn him, but he quickly reassured himself; the betrayal of one's call for aid only seemed to affect those of the rank of Kings, and he was God(in games). What 'chance' would there be if they deny aid for him? But away with this talk of chance. It was once said, that the religion known as chance was only followed by those who were devoid of law and belief; Keima had his own law: The law of a gamer, which was to plan forward, and to climb to become the best. So the question of chance and the minimal reliance of it was too far for him to take much recognition of. Everything he did, he planned, but everything he was unable to take control of was, of course, a chance he could not stop, but to rely on something as petty as chance was such a marvel to the growing adolescence.

Keeping his plans in straightforward order, he dismissed the group once they all agreed to the one answer he was fond of. They will send him help when he needed it, and they would send him new games whenever he needed to play them. What aid he needed, he himself did not know. He was only depending in their many expertise to see if any of them were going to be of any help during certain times. For now, there was no plans for the future, only vague visions of these 'ninjas', what they presumably had in common to the ninjas he saw in the galge he played. What would these ninjas be like, he asked himself. And why were they all secret until now? Those were questions he himself pondered over, but for now, he needed to go back home. Next week was his official date of leave once he told Nikaido, and he was not leaving without any needed gaming and sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

It was not his choice that this task had come to him. He was just too good for this world of weak blasphemies and little pallid problems. He was of quiet words, but it seemed his ears were a collector of the world's vocabulary; a boy who listened to the pleas of hundreds of innocent people (most women), with much interest to all of them, albeit most he had heard in a world living right beside ours, like a mirror: real life watching its reflection with heightened interests to the events that occurred in both worlds. There was no clash of two warring Kingdoms. All was peaceful. Those who reached out to the reflected image of their home to pass through the barrier, were considered the best of both worlds; unbeknownst to most, this boy I am speaking of was the Ambassador of Both Worlds, in the flesh. He balanced the shifting sands of the worldly hourglass with his two hands, as his assisted-perfect vision watched every grain of sand drop to the other side; each side was always in peaceful joint memorandum with each other, each side having the same amount of grains, like balancing the same amount of water in both troughs for the work horses, or balancing the weight of apples sold to one man, and the weight of apples sold to another of higher social standings. He was no mere mortal, no. He was the God of the Game World. With his invisible hands of God, he flawlessly finished any game he touched with little to no difficulty. No game had given him any strain, but real life seemed to have met his unmatched expectations. But, I'm not here to tell you of his miraculous, otherworldly abilities and prowess as he battled the Real World for the first time. I am here to tell you of his next battle with his new enemy. In the bowels of another world was the City of Hades. The world of the Devils and Demons.

This was Hell, and he was here today, in center stage, not to fight this menace, but to accept a request of utmost importance and dangerous risk. And that was all due to the vast quantities of popularity and respect he had garnered in this burning world below all young and living eyes; it wasn't his own personal wishes to gain this status, where all would turn their heads to catch even a glimpse of him. It was only a simple aftermath that impetuously followed him after his great clash between him and his home world that attracted him the attention of many who resided in Hell. But of course, his triumphant battle was of no ignorance, as he, other than garnering great allies on his journeys, also gained a soulmate, and at one point, everyone who viewed them said, WHAT THE HECK!? and if she were to one day vow to live with him until the end of ages, then there would be much fine change to the God of Games, such as the blessed opening of heart and mouth, and the widening and filling of his eyes with vision and sight. And maybe, with this awe-striking relationship, the Kosaka family, as of where Chihiro was born into, would be looked up (down) with great respect (disbelief) at the sight of such a handsome (... Well, I got nothing) boy being their son-in-law. But why was this boy, with all this love and respect, being in such a state of deep, time consuming thought and doubtful resolve. What was this endangering problem in his mind that had shaken his very bones until they broke into remnants of their past lives? Well, this was, of course, his thoughts concerning what task he had procured from Hell's tongue, detailing his leave from his home to journey to a far-away land, one he had never traversed before, to battle what he was not expectant of. People of the shadows, avoiders of the revealing light: Ninjas.

But that was all just a dream, am I not right? For as Keima slept in his bed, for the first ordinary time, he found himself drifting into a strange world of colorful backgrounds and smiling characters; girls of different builds and features were all around him, eyes twinkling with silent delight and jovial thoughts.  
Paradise was where he was. Paradise was where all gamers should be when they dream the gamer's life; when they enter the battlefield with their allies in combat, when they make their own houses with lovers and relatives, when they cook to impress the crowd of experienced multicultural tasters, when they wooed those who were to be wooed, and when they love with those people they have been friends, family and lovers for a life time. Such thoughts instigated no queer batting of the eyes. It only seemed natural that one's passion was to be dreamt of at a certain point of that person's life. And Keima was of no exception, delving into the second life he lived in the world of silent, dark sleep, where all troubles found difficulty pushing him off the side of the bed. Silence was a great pillow for the ears, he noted once, even though his two listening organs had preferred some noise every once in a while. Drifting in his own world he molded with his two godly hands, he danced in jocose rhythm, merrily with the girls he had befriended today, and tomorrow and yesterday. It all seemed so miraculous to him, that these people he once knew, the ones he held on his hand and on the tabletop, were all here today, to witness his glory and to receive the love he was willing to hand out. He knew he was to not wake up any time soon, for this dream was of too much importance to him. Paradise was not going to leave any time.

But that all seemed defied once he heard his mother, Mari, call him to wake up from this sleep. Blinking back into the strange light and life, the sight of Paradise rotting away into the real world caused much surprise to him, and Keima jolted, plummeting on to the hard wooden ground back first. Groaning with a slight irritation, he questioned the morning's conduct. For the rarest of times, he actually slept without playing any sort of all-nighters with his games, but why was his mother calling him so early? What time of the day was it, anyway?

Hands fumbling on the cabinet tops, he found his signature glasses and wore them. His mother's concerns were to be treated with little attentive mannerism from him, for now. It was time for him to play games. Still, why did he sleep? That thought crawled out of his vast mind once he sat himself down on his gaming seat, with the six computer screens in front of him. And what were those peculiar bags filled with his PFP games beside him, strangest was when did he pack all of them in such a bag? Examining it closer, he noticed some packed clothes below the cover of games, and other essential travel items.

Hearing the knock on the door, his attention detached its hooks from the bags to glare at the door. Behind it, was his mother's voice, a pinch of careful awareness in her tone, "Keima, didn't you forget today's your leave to Asakusa?"

...

Why did his memories have to come back... Why did they remind him of his decision?

Although little regret was in his mind, some annoyance in his consent about his new mission to Asakusa continued to swagger around him, caring little for his needs and current state and position. Prophecies will never ever predict this unorthodox mannerism of events that had occurred last week; yes, one week had carelessly passed since his planned meeting with the hosts and their Goddesses, and also his talk with Nikaido Dokurou, the supposedly-new leader of the Runaway Spirit Squad- one which he was forced into joining once again- considering the acceptance of this task that was placed on his shoulders. Up until now, there was some doubt he was unable to shake off; it was not regret, it was another uncomfortable emotion unknown to people such as him, brought upon him by a change in heart that occurred during his one month rest.

Sighing in harsh torpor, he paused all games present, and got up from his seat, ready to breakfast with the other family members, albeit before he tidied his bed, which had the appearance of accountable neglect. After that, he slowly went down to seat himself on his house's kitchen table, which was filled with essential edibles, all prepared with dainty, careful fingers from mother and sister dearest. Of course, this sight had already been burned into his foggy memories, so this simple breakfast was of no awe or surprise to him at the least, although it did coax his stomach to growl at the appetizing relish.

When all was done and prepared, the family sat down and started to eat. The PFP was absent from his hand today, another foreign feeling to him, but a sight to behold for both the women of the house. "So", he spoke, "When am I going?" There was a short exchange of confused stares, an exchange that garnered little concern from Keima, "When am I going to Asakusa? I forgot..."

There was some light hesitation before Eri, his sister, who had once been his devil partner, replied, "It's today. This morning..."

A slight delay held back Keima's reaction of surprise. It was after a few sips of tea, one he was pleased of in terms of quality and taste, before his whole bodily systems processed the information thoroughly, and no aristocratic words could explain his level of shock, and his overreactive burst of acrobatics, that, instead of allowing him to receive medals of gold and silver, only rewarded him with a hard knock on the cranium.

"After this," Mari said to her son, with little concern of his injury, "You're taking a shower. We'll accompany you to the station later." Even though she kept back the emotion in the darkest part of her mind, she was still quite depressed and disheartened that the man of the house had to leave on such short notice, but it was for the good of her son; to travel around their country seemed like more than an adventure for one so young and independent as him. There would be a day when her services and devices would not be needed, and when his own version of that was essential to her and her husband; she hoped that all he would do there was build up his independence and not play his games, so that he would return with the boldness and heart of any man worthy of her love. Something like her own man.  
But, of course, for her dear safety, little information regarding Keima's daring mission was opened to her; as sometimes, cluelessness leads to safeness. Sometimes, enquiring something meant to be touched and used by other hands and mouths lead to severe punishments and shame, and Keima had successfully avoided any form of injury to his family once again by masking it as a simple extra event in life. Accepting it with little resistance and following all rules allotted to him, he created a perfect veil of innocence and little risk on the subject at hand, something he had gained experience from his older tasks.

But of course, self-praise did little to lift his jaundiced mood, which had proceeded to demotivated his gaming spirit. Now he had little energy to drench his throat with soup and savor his bread. "You know what, I'll change first..." he pushed his breakfast away, before leaving his seat, "You guys don't need to follow me, I'll do it myself."

It was not the degrading satisfaction of his mother's and sister's presence that made him disagree with their suggestion, it was just this unease he had, as he pictured his uneventful walk to the station; a queer sort of doubtful excitement seemed to make him allergic to all external stimulus, such as the presence of those he knew. Something deep in his dark heart urged him to deny their future actions, and to do all activities alone with no hindrance. And as he climbed up the steps to his room, he heard the sounds of 'Why now' coming from his mother, but he had no heart to say a word. He just had no motivation for it.

The solemn thoughts grew in his mind, as his unexplainable emotion took him over with the thoughts of grief and pain. It would not leave him, until he returned to his home.


	9. Chapter 9

A ninja is silent. Or so most say. They must walk the shadows. Or so most say. They leave without a trace, or so most say in a tone of complete certainty, even though the lack of evidence would most probably contradict their audacious claims. What were all these biased, stereotypical thoughts of her occupation that seemed to be in all of mankind's minds? That was what Yagyū had pondered of since she began to walk through the streets. A certain advertorial detailing a new ninja game had caught her attention as she read the various magazines available in the nearby bookstores, and all she heard, saw, and visualized was the same. Just easily identifiable ninjas, all donned in traditional masks of comedic appearance, and all in dark garbs that seemed so strange in the distance, and up close made it seemed like the clothes of delinquents looking for fights in alleyways and deserted buildings. Well, that was her own short thought of Yankees- somewhat comparable to her other thoughts concerning ninjas- but other than them, ninjas were the most stereotyped: they do not wear such silly clothing in the night, they do not don masks that offer little protection and the lessening of bodily presence. And they surely do not only move at dusk; morning was a harder choice for them due to the rise of watching eyes, all staring in speckled directions. She knew all too well her identity. And even though all secrets or lies will come to light one day or the next, she was not ready to give up this life of hers, one she was integrated into after her child-sister had passed to the other side on that fate-ridden night. Yagyū was of little words, but this vacation she had received after all her hard work had been unprecedented, and she was eager to stay and help her fellow ninjas and friends; but it was another mental urge that told her not to decline this momentous offer. Of course, there was this sense of guilt, but the sight of their faces, especially HERS, had lightened her mood as she got in her train traveling out of Asakusa; a lighten of spirit is hard to attain, but once it is in arm's reach, it is harvestable for many days, until it is planted and watered patiently again until it blooms with splendor once more. This emotion was of great influence to her, but questions were still floating in her head regarding this strange change; a certain happiness, yet filled with melancholic touches.

And where was her belongings, at this certain point of time? Of course, with a reserved and planning mindset, she had already knew that all the essentials and eatables she needed were to be available in the city she was traversing to now, so what was the use of weighing herself down in a city so far from her home of Tokyo? Besides, there was the loosened burden in her arms, a burden she never truly accepted.

But of course, away with this pregnant state of mind and thought, she was occupied with other matters only she was to make words about. But as she continued her walk down the streets, she came to believe in something she had not thought of before.

"Is this really Narusawa?"

Sadly, she had gone off the train too fast, and arrived in Maijima.

* * *

Albeit with arguments of great amazement, Keima was still forced to allow additional company to his side, two people he felt very influential to his already unstable and unaccountable emotions. The sounds of his mother's chatter along with his sisters had drained him of much strength, as his bags were still carried by himself, aid so far up front. In a certain mannerisms only he would enact, he had begun to play PFP games with ninjas in them. It was not for leisurely pastime, it was research; as Keima never dove head on without ample information regarding the opposing forces. True, there was the prediction that not all ninjas were represented as they really are in these computerized games of his, but just some insight in terms of what they are able to do was already adequate to his mind. There was no need to continuously feed information when all one needs is just certain descriptions and instructions. But all this noise in front of him; it just took his attention with much force, stealing it away from the important topic at hand. This had irritated him to some extent, but he had little strength and reason to stop their chit-chat. All he could do now was walk to the station, with his games and possessions in heavy tow, enduring his family's ignorance of his physical and mental state.

At one point, he noticed a game store a short distance away, having an early morning sale, as a matter of fact, and he, afraid that his arms would fall off their sockets, had excused himself to buy games and rest, while reasoning them to go to the station themselves first while he browsed around. But of course, his arms felt a certain paralysis and strain to them, and he was unable to hold them high in the air, the pain too hard for his limiter, the mind, to continue...

But to his great, glorified joy, there were new games, limited edition games, and sequels all on the shelves, and he had a short burst of 'binge-buying', calculating all his available cash to achieve a bit of divine blessing of rest and rewards. "Whoa!" he cried in great joy, "'Love Below the Ninja Stars' is out! Oh, and 'Red Rosemary' Limited Edition has more cutscenes, dialogues and events? Heck yeah!" It was not long before he had two stacks full of desirables, all of them glimmering in the light of the cylindrical bulbs.

"Ohoho!" He laughed with enjoyment, excitement building up in his voice, "All these new PFP games, and I can play all of them in Asakusa, where no one will call me down to stop playing!" But then the thought of the ninjas slapped into his mind some sense. With this crisis at hand, there was no leisurely time for him at his new place of lodging, further creating a sense of grief, one that chilled the back of his spine, sending shivers throughout his fleshy nerves. Sighing in regret, he turned around, hands ready to redo all they had done to the neat and orderly shelves, but as he did, his arm had suddenly crashed; somehow, he had not perceived a presence at his back, and had carelessly turned around, hammering his arm into what seemed to be the side of the abdomen with excessively full force. With his sense of balance broken, the two heavy and majestic stacks he had on hand had fallen noisily on the ground, the sound of hard plastic battling with another twenty-or-so more. Shock clenched his mind with a tight grasp as the sights and sounds of his treasures broke on the hard tiled ground, and, with heightened reflexes of panic- his original reflexes were of little good in this situation- his hands pounced on the pile and started to examine with trembling all their qualities: which had been broken and which had stayed in conditions worth mentioning. To his great amazement, none if them had been externally damaged, and familiar instinct coaxed him to sigh in momentary relief. But then the apologetic angel of his inner self set out to his brain; no, it was not to apologize to any store employees who had come to soothe their beating hearts upon hearing the great crash, it was personally for the person whom he, by a sudden plunge of chance and luck, had injured. And as he took up his fallen comrades, he growled in half-tiredness.

"S-sorry."

He, speaking under some unfamiliar pressure, had necessarily blundered on his word, as a stutter snuck through his omnipotent mouth like a daily walk in the local park. His voice seemed coarser with the meaning of what he said, and the thought of him giving himself an even worse image had crossed his mind with blinding speed, before retreating back to wait for a better time. Of course, whom he had struck by careless accident, he had no knowledge of. He had not even taken time to glance at this person's face, but a certain prediction in his gamer mind had informed him, with unnatural haste that would only be presented and done when he played a game, that he would see her face in a timespan known to him as 'soon'.

As he solemnly collected the games in his arm, the person he had crashed into had quietly bent down to his low level- not in terms of status, but in terms of height- and had started to mimic what actions he was doing. But this action, Keima had also predicted. Exposition had dictated to him that, out of pity or sickening guilt, most men and women would help those that have some form of short-term influence, directly or indirectly, to them. Such incident as one witnessed by him first-hand would of course instill this action on most innocent men and women; the question of who he or she was also perplexed him somewhat, but he had little roused curiosity to glance as to whom was aiding him to collect these valuables up.

It was some time after the person bent, before curiosity began to grow and take him over, and, with this curiosity being contemplated with humane urges, he lifted his head, only to lay his eyes on a woman he had never seen before. A woman with white hair, tied into twin tails, was in front of him, eyes of bored energy staring at the games she picked up. She wore an eyepatch on her right eye, somewhat intriguing the Game God, and, although it seemed that she was to be of his age, she was ample in growth on her 'body', surprising his eyes with a bittersweet view that instilled guilt and pleasure in most, but awkward surprise in Keima, and the fact that she wore a black, long sleeved shirt with a small black vest that shamelessly exhibited her well-visible cleavage had done little to helped dissipate his embarrassing flush, which he had difficulty stowing away from the eyes of the public. There was little information for him to piece her demeanor, and her eyes spoke no word at the games she picked up with her soft hands. With outward appearances alone, she was a quiet girl with little to say, with one eye that seemed to observe everything it laid its gaze on. Other than those features, she was just an innocent girl who had her waist injured by his own arm. On another flash of thoughts that had been once unaccounted for, was she not injured after that unimpeachable male hand that had attacked her with reasons nonexistent to even the owner's mind? She's quite resilient, Keima thought with silent viewing at her character, More resilient than me, maybe...

"Umm, thanks," he said with a shy air around him as he stood up, a pile of games on hand. He was expectant of an answer or reply, but she seemed to be in a trance on the spot. And most peculiar was that her one eye, sharp like a blade, had been staring at a game she had on hand; it seemed that something of certain detail had called for her attention, as, even after he spoke his words, her attention was fixated on the game in front of him. But why would she focus her eyes on such a game, a tool of leisure? Well, Keima later noticed that it had been a GAL game about ninjas on her hand. Maybe she had a preference to ninjas?

"Ninjas..." she finally spoke, albeit in a voice that called for the closing of the ear's distance, "They aren't like this... They're different."

"Eh?" By now, Keima had bent his one leg down, so that his left ear was right beside her, to listen to her speak. Of course, confusion struck him with surprising speed. Who was this girl that seemed to try defying the ninja image, no matter how stereotypical it had been? Had she any knowledge of this mysterious occupation, of risk higher than even the work of a front-line soldier? She looked in no instances identical with a historian, so what had she meant when she said those words?

"Ninjas just aren't like this," she rose and calmly placed the game, still in its cover, on to Keima's own stack. She then continued her quiet speech, "I'll help you put them back, since I made you drop them, but you have to tell me which shelf it is."

Blinking in queer puzzlement, he hesitantly complied to her choice, and the two began to place back the games. With quick fleets of foot, he and the girl had, after some slow passage of time, finished rearranging all the games he had once wished to buy. Such a sight of his hands being devoid of new games had nearly forced the life's soul out of him, and he seemed tired with his movements, rather limping than raising his foot with pride and confidence as he went to the station. Although his problems were all resolved with little problems of their own, there was one thing that continued to perplex his mind.

"Erm, why are you following me?" He asked the white haired girl behind him, who had been staring in the distance for some time.

"Well," she said, "I want to ask you something." With little time for the opposing party to reply, she continued, "Am I in Narusawa?"

Some mind-blown surprise was inflicted on the boy, as his movement came to an abrupt stop and his face twisted into startled momentum, mouth open like a gaping hole and eyes narrowed and white like fallen snow in a Christmas avalanche. Exasperation became the new dominant player in his voice; it was not the question of how surprising this seemed, it was the immediate order of the correction of her beliefs and choices, as his voice had indicated when he said, "Are you serious?! How can you not know where you are?! If you're here for a holiday, then you should have been smart enough to know where you're freakin' going!" True, this seemed to be the new problem for certain tourists of the new century. Laziness- though that behavior seemed nonexistent in her- had took over the world order with an iron grip. Keima had evaded Laziness' corrosive spit, and still had the spirit to do things, but the sense that one did little research of a subject they were supposed to enquire and present seemed to irritate the boy. And she seemed like a clear example of his complaints. How was it that she herself, being not from Maijima and Narusawa, had not gathered information of the geography of the place? Such laziness was why Keima stayed away from all these negatively impactful events that promoted Laziness at its back, albeit his own prideful knowledge had not perceived the false accusation he had unwittingly stamped on to her.

Unfazed by this outburst of unpredictable extents, she replied as she began twirling and weaving her hair with her fingers, "True, but the stops from this place and Narusawa is only one station away. Mistakes are to be made at one point in life."

Of course, that excuse seemed so vague and ineffective in his mind, but her eyes slowly worked into his consciousness, influencing his thoughts to accept her words of reasoning. When Keima spoke again, he was in a half-conciliatory tone of voice, even though she was of no hostility, "Humph, just read the map next time." Turning his back so as to face his back to her, he began to walk away, stopping momentarily to deliver a few words to her, "So you're going to the station, I suppose?You want to go to Narusawa, right? Then follow me, I'm going to the station too."

She gave a curtsy sort of nod, before she began to trace his steps to his destination, and he was compliant of her silent wishes; instead of sensing this air of strange but inert intent, all he noticed was his and her closed mouth and their sharp eyes laying forward on the path ahead. Both were of little words, but it seemed that they had exhausted their ever-expanding vocabulary, rather wishing to stay silent and for the other gender to do the same. No matter the thought or influences, they both granted each other their wishes, no mentions of the subject at hand.

And as Yagyū walked behind this man she had met only in a time of recent events, she wondered as to who he was and why he emitted such an unworldly powerful presence to her one eye. But such a man, with a personal favoring to games, should not have such a presence; mortal men were not born with Godly qualities, as most would come to believe, but this man: who was he, not to all that passed him, heard him or seen him, but to her? She was of little fondness when it came to people of the opposite sex, but there was a certain sensation that called for her to carry on questioning rhetorical subjects: who was this boy to her, that made her head winch in bittersweet disgust at the fact that he himself also liked games with stereotypical ninjas in them? And what position was she in to question his status and personality, with her mouth favoring the savoring and spitting out of the disgusting but yearning taste that had been staining it? Petty feelings and opinions for a boy she had just met were quickly discarded, as she noticed his slight change in pace which had increased the space between them. Channeling effortless energy into her own pace, she started to take her steps faster, until she was right beside him, shoulders mere inches from the other's.

They stayed silent for the rest of the walk to the station.

* * *

Counting the seconds with straining eyes, Mari wondered about her son's current location and state, questioning his overall lateness after their separation with him. Sister Eri, on the other hand, had been passing the time staring at the firetrucks, their red hue an intriguing and ethereal sight to her child-like mind. Inadequate patience was the flaw of most men and women, and Mari was one prime suspect of it. Time was not of her essence as of the moment, and the absence of the one whom had personally decided to go to Asakusa at this fine morning. How many household chores, which had been calling for undeniable attention, had she not done in this short span of time? The thought agitated her somewhat, but for now, she was to wait, and hope that he came at a hopeful time.

"Madam Katsuragi!" an unfamiliar voice, in the distance called enthusiastically to her, and she faced the direction of the person who had taken her attention. To her surprise, there were six girls, around Keima's own age, coming to her with quick steps. In a matter of seconds, these six were crowding in front of the housewife, who had been shocked and silenced by the sudden advent of these children she did not know about; there was what seemed to be Tenri behind the crowd, but her shyness had his her below the heads of everyone else.

"Eh, who were you girls again? Have we met?" she asked with hasty confusion, hoping to not cause that large of a commotion in a crowded place such as the train station.

And as Eri continued to stand outside, oblivious of the six host's presence and with full knowledge of the trucks in front of her, they all attended to Keima's mother, in manners more proper and formal for a cleaner and safer image to those they spoke to; what man or woman would wish to tarnish, immediately or slowly, their own outer image to other people's eyes?

"Well, my name's Ayumi Takahara, Keima's friend," the track runner calmly introduced herself, creating an environment for the others to introduce themselves.

"And I think you know who I am?" Kanon gave a wink.

"S-Shiori..." the librarian sheepishly said, bowing with a certain level of respect.

"Tsukiyo," she gave a curtsy.

"M-morning, Miss Katsuragi..." Tenri spoke in a voice nearly identical to Shiori's.

"And I'm Yui. P.S, I'm not a boy..."

This unfamiliar speed of the conversation was unadapted into Mari's systems, and the confusion of this 'friends' confession had struck her rather strongly, as if the thought of never seeing the day her son might get more friends- Chihiro and Tenri seemed to be the base for this belief- had, even after all the reassurances and threats, actually been broken with ease.

"I-I never knew..." she wiped a gleaming tear off her half-closed eyes, "Keima had so many friends..." Happiness and fulfilled joy had pulsated alive, and a beautiful feeling had overtaken her actions; at one point, she had extended her hands and hugged all five, excluding Tenri who had pulled back, with excessive force, crying, "Thank you! Thank you so much!" Of course, the motherly passions and meanings that garnished this praise had passed their ears, unnoticed by all the girls, their focus more to the fact that they had the chance to die due to her unnaturally powerful hug.

After some time of enthusiastically chatting a storm with this group of girls, Keima finally arrived, but to Mari's tremendous surprise, there was a woman beside her, one of white twin tailed hair and a fine body proportion at her supposed age. Was this another friend, and if so, did he socialize with her just now?  
"Keima!" she excitedly called for his attention, waving her hand to strengthen her presence, "Is that another friend of yours?"

Of course, the surprise that the hosts were present had visibly transformed his face to one of great shock, but he, noting his mother's smile, had to address her question with little delay, else he would be demanded an answer a second time with a new, undesirable tone of voice. But before he could, the girl he had met just minutes before spoke his words for him, with little indication or warning that she would do it.

"I just asked him for directions, but we're both going to the station, so rather than walking here in another direction, I followed him." There was little time for any response, before the woman turned to Keima, with a face of blank emotions, and bowed in respect and thanks. "Thank you for taking me here," she said, flattering Keima somewhat and causing him to bloom slightly.

Before she climbed up the steps to wait for the train that promised to take her to the city she sought, a certain untold affinity only sensed by herself, and unnoticeable to all, had pulled her back to say a few more words to him. And to start her short, ending conversation, she asked him with his same, emotionless voice, "What's your name?"

"Ah," he gave a light gasp, his guard lowered at the time of her question, "Keima Katsuragi..."

"Yagyū." She held no words of introduction back, as shown by how blatantly she spoke of her name, although any expected tone of boorishness in the voice was absent. Instinctive thought had told her that she was to have no further audience with him any time in the future. But, to assure that she was at least in this boy's mind, she then added with little care of its awkward context, "Remember that name."

Then she left, up the short flight of steps, leaving the God of Games to stand and watch, passing through his mother and the six girls with little care of her image.

"Hmm..." Keima placed a hand on his chin as he stared at the spot she stood on, "I wonder..."

"KEIMA! Your train is coming!" Mari cried to her beloved son, fearful of the fact that he might miss this important time; there was no time to think of the girl that followed him, there were more important matters to tinker with.

Quickly replying with a burst of speed, his presence attracted Eri's wavering attention, and she quickly mimicked his actions, following him up the steps to see him off. Having been given his bags full of his belongings, he faced the group and quickly asked with a tone of impatience, "What're you guys doing here anyway?"

"Well," Ayumi spoke, "We're here to see you off, Keima!"

The compassion she, and hopefully everyone present, showed was a great comfort for his doubtful heart. Truthfully, he was glad that they were all here, although the missing presence of one dear to him seemed to disappoint him; she had been informed, yes, but it seemed that she had little time to comply and give her dearest regards and blessings on his day of leave. But the fact that everyone else was here had at least erased the effects her absence had created.  
"Thanks, girls. You've helped me for so long-" the announcement of his train arriving had cut him off, and, with a small bow of the head, he exchanged a few more words of farewells, before he walked away from his mother, his sister and all his 'friends'. Bodily instincts forbid him to look back once to see them wave to him in respect and love, and as he entered the train, their presence finally disappeared, and an unfamiliar emotion entered him- an emotion unwonted in his bodily system; the peculiar sense of mimicry guilt- an emotion not known to the great God of Games- that seemed not of guilt at all. This was the emotion that dictated the thoughts and feelings of those that leave for lands far away. An emotion only those with an adequate amount of affection would feel.  
A sudden suggestion of unparalleled importance seemed to shock his mind with a high voltage, and his trance, which included looking out of the window at the now-moving scenery, immediately dissipated with this thought. Pulling out his PFP, he began to look for his dear Chihiro's email, and he wrote a message, carved and ornately decorated with words from the deep red of the heart. Sending it, he placed his game console down, wishes of playing it absent in his mind; the absence was indeed soothing to him, but now there was nothing that could impress him, as his mind continued to ponder this heartbreaking emotion. That was when he found the origins of this foreign feeling: it was the sickness of one who had abandoned his friends behind, and even if he did not abandon his family and friends, the emotion stuck to him with an adhesive grip. For once in Keima's life, he needed human company. Anyone to at least sate his desires to stop the advances of this form of loneliness. Man, in the start of time, wish for the company of one another, but now, with the advent of electronics that took away the people's attention of the real world away, there was now minimal communication with those beside them, both in terms of mouthed language and bodily language. What remnants of an ancient time of words were now but dust to the people, but Keima felt the full force of the loneliness people of that time would have felt, being left with no one to speak to. And as favorable thoughts of company dictates, none must be left in the shadows, but he felt this emotion in great extents, that the straining in his heart felt unbearable to his mental state, and was clawing down his physical state.

He was alone- he knew that to the fullest of heart- and today, his games were not there to help him escape the pain.


	10. Chapter 10

"I missed him?" Chihiro panted in great tiredness, her overall lateness costing her a great deal of time for no payoff at all. In front of her was Mari, whom was dressed in her usual outdoor attire, a look of distress on her face. It had been only a minute since Keima Katsuragi had left, and the overall coincidence of his lover coming at such an unfortunate time was shocking to the woman.

Quickly assessing the situation, the elderly woman began to explain to her in a voice of pitiful implies, "Oh, I-I'm so sorry, Kosaka-chan! If you'd come here seconds ago, you would have caught a glimpse of him going out of the station, but don't worry, I think he'll call you shortly, seeing how you two ARE in a relationship, heh." The short giggle was riddled with the false hopes of reassurance, but it was one that Chihiro had the urge to take as she waited for her phone to ring, her feet ordered to the event of bringing her to her home. With the only form of long-distant, hand-held communication on her small hands, she walked through the street side, face of unrivaled disappointment as she stared forward, into the empty path made in front of her. True, there were people of noticeable variety around her, but the fact that the straight empty path before her was, as described, 'empty'; thoughts of deep consideration had begun to dawn in her mind. Was destiny and fate, with words that proved too sophisticated for her mind to handle, at play here, or was chance just toying with her mentality? No matter the strange oddities that lay in front of her, her heart was still unsatisfied and wounded with the guilt of her late entrance, which in turn only rewarded her with utter disappointment that relinquished the smile she once had the day before this once-sought Sunday.  
"When is he going to call?" she complained as she stopped walking, "Maybe I'll call him later..." But then, the suggestion of talking to him at this moment, this stretch of time, seemed a possibility; instead of waiting, why not just call him now, on this street, during this momentous time of certain absence? That tempting thought of dire communication had made her open her phone, but a certain disposition within her had told her that he will, without fail, make her phone ring. But was it better to just call him now, than wait for that ring at another time?

And then there it was.

No, not a traditional ringtone of a phone that she had whole-heartedly expected, but a sound that was reminiscent of when one had received mail from another. A welcomed sense of relief flooded into her systems, and she sighed away the indecisive thoughts that plagued her for the last few minutes; quite a short time had passed since she stood still on the street side, a strangely familiar café at the right if her. What message she received, she quickly opened and read with attentive eyes, analyzing every word written into the white space that every phone had. What surprised her was- yes, it had been Keima who had written the message- the fact that sincere words of faith were written with such honesty, more surprising was the fact that Keima had never said these things to her in person, nor will he ever say it to anyone in face, with enough honesty to identify it as words real and non-fictional.

Giving a light, hearty giggle as she read the message in a still voice, she said to herself, "He'd better think about what he's promising, that Otamegane..." How old that word was, she had no idea. It had been Keima's old nickname, a word of unparalleled insult that described his heightened obsession of games and anime girls, but, even with the context of the nickname, she said it with a tone of joking speech.

Because why would she insult her lover, a man whom, she knew as his other, would never choose another for her. There was no form of lovers' manipulation when she thought those thoughts; purity and truth were in her mind, in peaceful harmony with each other.

But what had he written with this strange, unfamiliar love, you ask? Well, it was poetry most would see this boy never writing, but these past events had opened his inner eyes many times more than all the wooing and kissing he went through, all the searching and time traveling he had to witness. He was enlightened in the unnoticeable symphony of the invisible heavenly blessings given to him by omniscient hands, blessings that he thought he would never receive. What he wrote, as I have said before, seemed so mystifying, that none would believe that he had the heart to write it. What he wrote, echoed through Chihiro's mind as she walked home with a beautiful smile she rarely wore. What he wrote, was this:

"To Chihiro,  
You seem to have been busy during my Leaving Party, but before I really leave you alone here, I want to tell you a few things.  
One, I will never leave you for another woman in Asakusa or anywhere else in the world. You are my True Ending, and no one can replace you, so keep yourself safe during my leave, or I'm gonna regret ever living.  
Two, I will be at Asakusa for an unspecified amount of time, so don't go expecting me to be back in one month. Seeing how Tokyo is only a few hours by bullet train, you can visit me on weekends. I don't mind telling you where I'm staying. I like your company, anyway.  
Three, I love you more than my games, don't forget that, Chihiro.  
Love, Keima"

Short, it was, but it set a path of required instructions for Chihiro. His general concerns for her had touched her kindly in her heart, and she was determined to keep herself safe for the time being. Her brain had also began to plan for a course of action for the weekends; which day she was able to go, she would seize such a chance and visit her beloved. And his confession, which he had done many times before (in his standards and speech patterns), was a great lift of spiritual pitch for her.  
And as she walked down her empty road home, she couldn't help but to kiss her hand, before blowing its inner meaning into the wind, hopeful that its gentle warmth would fly to Keima, no matter how preposterous it sounded; even teenage women were allowed to dream in life, and she was a prime example. Just a normal girl, with an extraordinary boyfriend and an out-of-this-world normal, albeit welcome mind. She was Chihiro, and she had a boyfriend named Keima, who loved her as much as she loved him, even though he rarely shone it in the light of those around him; games had been his friend for far too long. It was time for loving intervention from; not only her, she knew, but from her friends also. All those people who had opened his consciousness for change. And even as her smile gradually melted away as she watched the sun rising marvelous in the air, her heart still whispered, 'I love you' to the boy. Time passed as her memory fumbled and played with images of Keima, and, after a certain period of absent soul, she skipped away with glee. There was much to be done at home, anyways.

* * *

To be monopolized. I wonder what that truly signifies now. To be used by someone to their fullest and longest extent with no setbacks or care; slavery was gone from the world, so where can one truly to find a man or woman blatantly used by another of higher standings? Maybe it was this woman of young features Keima found standing in front of him: a woman of purple hue on the scalp, traditional Runaway Spirit Squad clothing and a scythe of unrealistic size beside her. Haqua du Lot Herminium, the valedictorian of the Runaway Spirit Squad, was right in front of her, alone and with a bag carried by her hagoroma; her buddy was Yukie, whom he swore still resided back in Maijima. And where had he been for this unprecedented appearance of the devil? Tokyo, of course. What had you predicted?

"What are you...?" he spoke with mild disbelief as the train he had emerged from left the scene, leaving the two to merge into the crowd; but even after that, their vision still seemed to curve through the heads and bodies, before laying their sight on the other.

"You can't possibly be..." she herself replied with a slightly stronger tone, her eyes strained with the pumping blood of panicked shock. Even with all this commotion beside the two, their focus was strongly and constructed, like a bridge, connecting the two in this competition of stares. There was an air of awkwardness between the two that most were unable to feel, but the two knew, all expectations they both have crafted were all shattered by the appearance of the other; and the two had little knowledge of the bags the other gender carried.

"So," a familiar voice appeared in extremely close proximity to them, "You two surprised?" In one quick swipe, Haqua placed a hand on her sensor- it also functioned as a communicator to those back in New Hell- and began to ask the one behind the non-existent speaker.

"Dokurou-Sensei! What's this? Where's my new buddy?" New buddy? Those words of strange circumstances made Keima instinctively raised an eyebrow as potent puzzlement influenced his thoughts. Had something changed back in Maijima in the past few hours, or has the power of Providence laid another risky path for him? That seemed the possibility, but religion was nowhere his forte; to think as a fellow man of reasonability was his core belief, to measure the lengths of where and when decisions were to change the impending future, and to angle the views of certain influences in life. But for now, thoughts were of ineffective influence, and speech was necessary for the unearthing of an answer.

"Um, what are you doing?" he asked, avoiding any questions of potential irritation and deep enquiry.

"Not now, Keima. I'm talking to Dokurou here..." His cautious efforts to avoid anger had not gone as planned, and he felt rising impatience in her, one he knew he was not to touch about. Sighing, he gently set down his two bags on the tiled floor, relieving the growing stress on his shoulder and hand and leaving his two most useful limbs free for effective use. To quietly pass the time, he pulled out his PFP and began to play, his ears paying heed to Haqua's sentences as she continued this hot exchange of simplistic questions and answers; all she did now was complain to the operator on the other side, agitated words all she could speak as of the moment.  
"Wait, so what do you mean?" she said, "I-I don't understand, Dokurou, I thought my new buddy was at- hey, what's going on, anyway!? I-Wait, what?! I don't slack off! Ah, s-sorry, Nikaido Dokurou-San... Wait, so you're telling me I separated from Yukie to pair up with him?!"

The last sentence piqued Keima's senses, and, with this sudden push from a torrential wave of surprise, but also a backwash of answered doubt- who was to help him capture these Runaway Spirits?- he burst out in a surprised scream.

"Wait, what?! Me, pairing with the likes of you!?" Of course, with her personality, a little seasoning of insulting spices in a speech such as his was a sure way to gain her attention; sure enough, her preoccupation with her sensor's communicator properties was quickly shifted to the one who had insulted her.

"Hey, I wasn't the one who wanted this!" She hissed to him (albeit with a subdued tone), her hagoroma lightly pressuring her left arm which she had swung down with when she spoke, and as she continued, she crossed her arms together, in a manner showing annoyance, and puffed up her chest as she turned away from him, exerting a presence of high stature. "Humph," she made an unpleasant noise, "Why do I have to work with you? At least Yukie was getting useful with Spirit captures."

This neutral disagreement amongst the two was somewhat uncalled for, but tolerance was at play here, and Keima was trying his hardest to tolerate this uncommonly agitating reply, which had come to generate, in Keima's disposition, something quite unexpected. He felt a sudden urge to continue this useless babble; a moment ago, he only wished to take her attention, and listen for more details that would answer the questions floating in his mind. But at the moment's notice, Haqua's focus shifted once more, and she began to relay more information to the speaker behind the communicator. And, as he enquired what he had heard, he compiled a whole brainstorm of information in his brain, which he slowly crafted together into a fine work of tapestry:

1\. He had been appointed as Haqua's new buddy; Yukie can rest for a while.  
2\. With her knowledge, she must know how to navigate this city and understand all the landmarks given to her, as of what Nikaido had explained.  
3\. Haqua's nickname is 'du Lot of Death Flags'. Now why did that sound so true?

True, there was bits and pieces everywhere, but that was all he could truly weave out from the chatter. After some time, Haqua shut off her sensor, and faced her new buddy with a face of annoyed disgust, saying to him in a tone that gave no merit to the likes, "S-so, you're here for the ninjas, right? Well, Dokurou's told me that I need to relay information about this mission to you. You better listen, or else Dokurou's getting both our throats."

To be monopolized? What did it meant, he pondered as he stared at the woman in front of him with eyes of light surprise. To be controlled by the one who you worked for. Maybe that was how being monopolized meant, or was there more to be explored from this piece of information? For now, there a some listening to do; questions of certain importance were all reserved for later, anyways, and Keima's curiosity had little hindrance to the influence of future choices, all of certain significance in his new path to the ninjas. Treacherous it may be, he volunteered for it willingly, so what was the use stepping down so far in, anyway, no less denying the gift of essential information.

* * *

**Okay, this is the first time (I think) I'm doing this. Please review my story, and no, it's not 'I like it' or anything general and short. I want constructive criticism and mentions of typos and stuff. If you like my fanfic, then thanks. Don't find it interesting, also thanks. At least I know there is something missing that makes the story unappealing to you. Well, that's all all got to say. See you in the next 3 days (Yes, I'm extending the date).**


	11. Chapter 11

**Exposition Time. Sorry for those who REALLY want Keima to meet the Shinobi right now.**

* * *

It had been some time since the two had left the train station; the sun had begun to set, albeit the orange of the noon sun had not come yet, and they had quickly found themselves traveling into the district of Asakusa by boat, for reasons Keima himself had not been enlightened as of yet.

He had already called the people back at his home of his safe arrivals, and had explained to the six of his further plans, and although he saw fit that now was a time of safe relaxation, it was no mistake to find more information at this time, and enquire about the ninjas. But, as he watched Haqua observe the skyscrapers with cautious awe and marvel, flinching ever so slightly at the sight of movement in the buildings, he had begun to think curiously of what she was supposed to explain to him. No explanation had been made due to the circumstances of the great, surging crowd that seemed even more curious about the two than everything else, seeing how Haqua herself seemed to be in a sort of cosplay; of whom, he did not know, but putting aside the minor things, impatience had urged him to say a word regarding these mysterious ninjas. But as he pocketed his beloved PFP, he noticed something far in the distance. He had believed that he had seen something else; a bird of exceptional size, maybe, but continuous blinking of his weak eyes had confirmed his beliefs: it was a human, hopping in a quick haste of acrobatics on the roofs of the towering skyscrapers.

Certain shock came first, then a puzzled awe glued him to the rails facing the scene, and again this curiosity had risen up once more as he observed the peculiar sight far away. It was some time before these 'humans' disappeared below the buildings, all jumping down to what was below; it had been an ethereal sight for the boy, but when they exited his view, his heart began beating in a tempo again. A certain excitement of subdued senses had taken over him as he watched, and as it dissipated rather quickly, he wondered if what he had seen was real, or if it was some certain mirage due to sea-sickness, but when was he ever prone to that disorder? Believing that this trance should quickly end, he shook his head, kept his curiosity aside, and approached Haqua.

"Hmm?" she noticed the boy approaching her, "What is it?"

"Haqua," he began, "When are you going to tell me about these ninjas? Wasn't that nearly one hour ago...?"

"Ah!" she gave a cry of surprise, before she sat down on a chair nearby. Quickly arranging her words, she began to explain, "Okay, Keima. We are both going into ninja territory, and, due to some skirmishes with with the devils and ninjas, being in Tokyo is actually endangering our lives."

"Err... W-why is that?"

"Well, let me tell you a story: A long time ago, a dangerously powerful and feral demon known as the Yoma dwelled around Tokyo. We don't know why they're so exclusive to this area, but we combated them for hundreds of years. One day, when the Squad was trying to destroy a powerful Yoma, they stumbled upon the Shinobi. They took it down together, and our leaders made an alliance with each other. I think you know what happens next."

"From what I'm given, something happened, and the two groups became mortal enemies… Right?"

"Correct. The Squad, and anything Hell-related was barred from entering Tokyo. We do get the usual casualties because of the two meeting each other every once in a while around Japan…"

"Wait," disbelief was his tone of voice now, "Then why are you able to...?"

"Well, Nikaido says she knows a familiar face here, and he's working for the ninjas, so he's giving us something like a limited edition pass to work in Asakusa."

Of course, the marvel of the undisclosed information boggled the Keima's mind to an extent. Silence began to close his mouth as he heard her words of recollection, his two now-beady eyes staring at the scenery above her head as the boat neared its docks; now why did this sense of secrecy feel so familiar, even in the times of chatty emphasize? The irony of a familiar revelation of secrets, they was what it could have been. And if it had been that, then she was not of the right mindset to ask questions regarding the in-depth explanation of the explanation. Instead, he asked another question of lesser importance.

"How's that possible?" he asked in a quiet tone, as if he were promoting the vacancy of an atmosphere.

"I don't know. She said they were both 'business buddies' at one point. But other than that, we must not leave Asakusa. All the ninjas outside the district are wary of our existence, and they were all trained to never trust devils, so my influence and help is actually caged into Asakusa. Yours is a bit bigger, because you can move around, but only if I'm not with you, and even with that, you must be careful, as they also don't trust devil buddies. So this is an extremely closed off mission. We can't ask for outside help, also."

There was much consideration regarding all the information he had readily received, most risky of all the fact that no outside help was to come to interfere with his captures. But a thought of secretive light had shone on to him, and he was obliged to keep it a secret as of what his brain had urged him to do, lest he risked it being discovered by unwanted ears. It was a decision he happily took in fear of its foil; of course, how was one to win a losing battle without secrecy, morale and reinforcements? It was a thought he was too young in aged years to disclose to any friend, family member or people of all class and status. Caution was his temporary motto. And the fact of the Youmas? That was a piece of information he found to be neither startling nor able to be ignored. It was of a certain importance that seemed to mirror that of his first explanation of Runaway Spirits; the surprise from once before was non-existent, now that he had seen more with his eyes than anyone he knew.

"Oh yeah, and I think we can drop the word 'ninja'."

"Eh, why?" Keima quickly shook the thoughts away before staring at Haqua with eyes of queer disbelief.

"They aren't truly called 'ninjas'. They prefer to be addressed as 'Shinobi'. Don't ask me why."

"But weren't you a valedictorian? Shouldn't you have studied this?" Another blow to Haqua's pride had little impact, less hurt anyone, anyways.

"H-hey, we only studied about the shinobis' history with Hell, okay! We never went so deep into their origins and stuff!" She retorted with great energy, standing from her chair and stomping her feet on the wooden floor, while her body stretched itself tall in the light of the sun in a manner of mild intimidation. Her weakness for not being 'Number One' had made casual teasing extremely fun once it came to such weak minded men and women as her own self. After that performance that connoted her inner anger, an air of anxiety began enveloped around her.

"Y-you know what," she said in a subdued tone, embarrassed of her actions, "We're already here, so for now, let's just go and look for the assigned house we're staying at."

Of course, Keima was internally delighted with this prospect. The providing of homes had erased the needless and time draining searching for hotels in the area, and, in a thought common to all veterans of the pixelated world, with this stationary hub of dwelling and a woman to care for the house, playing games seemed less of an argumentative issue. Filled with this prospect, he began to walk out of the boat, away from the dumbfounded Haqua, while playing his game, ignorance easily shoving the presence of every other zealous passengers. And even if she did call him to carry his stuff, he had no wishes to become the porter once more. He had not relinquished his physical and mental stress, so any strenuous exercise had become an unquestionable topic to his body, but for now, all he needed to do was find this house of theirs, as gaming knowledge had instructed and explained to him that women of Haqua's specs and disposition had an undeniable handicap: the sad story of the lost lamb who had no sense of direction... He was not build and given life to just to follow such a woman, so he himself had to make the play in this game board known as Asakusa. But of course, to be considerate, he waited outside the docks for the devil. He needed technical directions, anyway...

"This is it?" Keima asked as his eyes surveyed the great concrete box in front of him and Haqua. It had been some time before the two uncovered the house's true location- there had been certain 'directional flaws' in the devil's commands- and, truth be told, there was nothing to really marvel of the place. There was the front lawn, filled with fuzzy, soft grass, a potted plant of stereotypical imagery and a black sigh that said 'Cafe Grandpa' right outside the fences and the doors, its chalk writing and drawings a certain sweet sight to the eye. Still, something seemed extraordinarily familiar about the exterior of this particular lodging, since it seemed to reminiscent a very familiar place of discussions and lunching.

"WHY THE HECK IS THIS MY HOUSE!?" Keima burst in disbelief at the sight, his preparations of little protection to the sudden revelation of its appearance. But of course, the shock was of little surprise, if one took note of his innocent predictions that dictated his guard to lower to a bare minimum; it was a reaction that all would go through in such a certain situation. When would one ever believe that everyone who had shared a lunch table were to have the same lunches, or when their birth date coincided with the date of their lover's day of passing? Such chance was of little influence and preparations by past precedents and experience; although all that would not explain Haqua's own reaction against the shocking revelation.

"E-eh? Y-your house? Aren't we in Asakusa?" she muttered in a trance of confusion and surprise.

"Wha- I thought you knew how it would look like?!"

"W-well, Dokurou never told me how the house would look like!" She retaliated, before believing that further attacks was of a necessity to throw off any additional aggression against the topic she fought with, "How was I supposed to know how it looked like?"

"Well," quickly dispelling his anger of surprise and unanswered questions, and bringing himself to a calm state once more, he glanced back to the house, before sighing in a manner of harmless defeat, "If this is what we get, then we're taking it. Put the bags inside, I'll look around."

Opening the door to let both their authority into their new home- Haqua had confessed that it sounded too 'personal'- he left the girl in the entrance of the diner/house, his feet, hands and eyes moving, feeling, and spotting every piece of detail that was an exact replica of his old, true home; there were some differences and equalities visible to only seasoned people such as him and his blood-family, but with his judgements of these minor differences, he was just and merciful. At the least, it had no impediment to any of his gaming nature, nor his memories; as every corner of the house had been copied properly, he was able to navigate this large, empty place of bustling decorations and brightening props with no trouble or utterance of memory loss or complaints due to petty inaccuracy. His own room was also constructed to a near perfect state: with his bed in perfect soft and bounciness, lights of perfect intensity and the perimeters of the room perfect like his back at Maijima, albeit it was missing his game chair and six computers; but what marvels the PFP could do to the heightened dullness of the house. And even though there was an internal preference of the 'angel of the house'- all sane children have a desire of motherly company- Haqua was there to make amends to his requirements. And the air itself had the lingering scent and calmness of Maijima itself; as people, who had lived in one place in the passing years, will always remember the feeling of their senses as they relive their treasured memories.

After some walking, he found himself stepping back into the entrance, and he had taken note of Haqua, who had found comfort in the form of the sofa facing the television, where she laid lazily and in a way that visualized the possibilities when joints were non-existent. Wondering if they should go out to lunch- time had ordered all for tea at this very hour- after noticing the emptiness and lack of satisfaction of his own systems, he said, "Hey, wanna go and eat outside first?"

"Hmm?" she pushed her body back up, before blushing slightly, confidence and courage still standing, and saying, "W-well, okay, but I have to report to Nikaido of our safe arrival, and I want to pick where to go."

"Do you even know the place?" He asked with suspicion as he put on his shoes.

"Of course not!" She immediately got up the soft sofa in a clumsy manner, dusting her mini-skirt and approaching her own shoes at the door, "But maybe if we go to the streets nearby, there might be a restaurant I fancy..."

"Okay," Keima replied in a fashion that dictated little attention, returning to playing his prized possession before opening the door to the outside, which now had the slight tint of orange. For now, surprising and missing information was scattered in little piles everywhere, he thought as he walked out, Was there more surprised than this? It seemed so plausible, but was there any use preparing when all these shocks and awes were of an unpredictable nature? Ninja- no, 'Shinobis' were on his target list, something he believed was never possible in this span of life offered to him. What did they truly do? What were their true abilities in the field of the modern world? And what of the Youmas? Was he to meet one in the distant future? These streams of questions, all with unstable answers of strong doubt, had slightly irritated him as he walked through the streets. Prior knowledge had not suit him in steel armor. And what of the sight he saw in the distance during the boat ride? What had that been? The vague possibility of those silhouettes on the building tops being ninjas was not far from his thoughts, but questions and beliefs were of little use as of the moment; when the time came that he met a Shinobi in person, then maybe all the mysteries would be solved, all comfortless thoughts would be erased and all forms of foreign superstition destroyed. That time was not of close proximity to the seconds he witnessed. That would be tomorrow. And for this hour, there was some searching and menu browsing to do.

* * *

**Holey shneiderlein (See if you can pronounce that), so many reviews? I am really thankful for all of them. Sorry that there's so much exposition here. I actually wrote this for a friend who had NO experience with The World God Only Knows: The reason all those meetings with the Old Targets were because it was a sort of a summarized background of all of them, excluding a select few from the Novel. Oh, and to the Guest who's review couldn't make it (because I was in a bad mood at the time (Really sorry *D:*)), the part about the Harem Ending was a minor detail, and I haven't read the TWGOK manga for a while, so it slipped my mind about what he saw in the Harem Ending... Well, that should be all I am addressing, as of the moment (or did I miss something out?). Please review; constructive criticism is welcomed (I promise I won't deny another Guest review ever again), and tell me if there's a typo- I wrote this on my phone.**


	12. Chapter 12

After some time of searching, strong impressions led the two to choose a small restaurant at a commercial street nearby, where there were stores of different variants selling items of unique taste and look, but this one seemed to catch both eyes in a grasp, just to present its marvel and handsome complexion. A giant sign, shaped like a slice of shortcake, broadcasted to all who laid their eyes on it: the colors and varieties of hunger-curing eatables readily available in this nice restaurant, and for those who did enter this restaurant in search for these eatables, at the back was an open transparent glass wall that showed the river and its boats behind the store, a sweet view for most, as Haqua demonstrated.

"Wow," she gawked as the sailboats and engine-powered boats passed her eyes, choosing to ignore Keima's stare of disbelief, "The reflection of the sun is so beautiful! I never knew it looked like this in the afternoon."

There was little to marvel, for the Game God, as the thoughts he believed to have been abandoned before continued to make themselves at home in his conscience. And even though he had no negativity regarding the restaurant itself, there was a certain emotional influence that shone in him that made him see the restaurant in a different light. Counting the seconds it took for the menu to arrive, he observed those whom remained in their seats, cups of quaint tea on their hands and cakes left on their round or rectangular tables. Although he wasn't a fan of sweet things- he detested them since he was a child- there was this predominant urge that took hold of his judgement; he chose this restaurant out of whim, as if something of unknown but powerful influence had called for him. Why his thoughts believed in that sense, he did not know; surely, this was a place where no ninjas would dwell, if that thought had been the cause.

"Hey," he called to Haqua, "Haven't you reported to Nikaido yet?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot!" She replied with a tone of slight embarrassment before fumbling with her sensor in an attempt to switch it to communicate with her leader.

Transferring his focus from the devil speaking to his former teacher to the window, he stared into the many buildings at the opposing side of the river; silence filled his larynx as he narrowed his vision to the slightly orange river, the boats rocking and bobbing pitifully at the mercy of calm waves and wind. There was no attractions to his attention. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to attain his full gaze as he skimmed through the structures and people on the other side, and the boats and water as the sun continued its eternal course down to darkness and rebirth. There were no birds in the sky, no noticeable fish in the water, and no sailors mending the sails or engines; it was just full blown ordinary, with no hindrance to focus or loud noises to shatter his personal silence. 'Ordinary' seemed so strange once he took his step into Asakusa, but the sights and sounds seemed so normal, serene and calm. There was no disturbance of sensory levels, nor was there any sudden movement from all that was able move, twist or turn. It seemed so much identical as Ordinary. But what could be ordinary here? Weren't there ninjas on the prowl out there? Wasn't there a devil sitting opposite of him? Then why did all these sights register into him as 'ordinary'? This sense of calm air had difficulty registering into him, as his mindset had drifted off its course of normality, to a fortress of peculiarity and queer, unidentifiable sights; in an environment different than one's usual, mental preparations for the unexpected and different become an automatic reaction and process for the body.

Before long, an odd advent of silence attracted his unwavering attention, and, believing that Haqua had finished her report, he turned to her and asked, "You done?" But she wasn't there. No one was anywhere. Heck, he wasn't even in the restaurant anymore. He was sitting on what seemed to be the soft chair he had sat on before, but instead, it had a green tint painted on to it, and so was everything else he could see. Even the sky had darkened to a sickening glint. Shock and awe took over his features as he rose from his seat to examine his surroundings.

"Eh, w-what happened?" He asked a question to any who could hear and respond to him, even though chances of anyone else here were slim and nearly. The sudden appearance of the unexplained had totally crashed him into a dead end in his mind; now he was confused, lost and in a great state of denial of the existence of this green coloration that had enveloped his surrounding. The fact that he was not in 'his world' had not come to him at once, only caution and puzzled emotions which threw him off his tracks. He began to think if all he saw were possibly just a hallucination; what had instilled its effects, he had no definitive answer, but the thoughts of foreign intervention and causes was of no immediate registration in him. All he knew was that all life around him had disappeared with little to no trace of their presence being once there; the sounds were all but hollow blows of air now and the smells were just tasteless husks of their former flavors. Preparing for the worst, and still in search for answers, he continued to take steps out from his original table, avoiding any collision as a precaution, and travelled to the entrance of the restaurant, where he swung open the door in careful vigor. There, he kept an eye at the light green distortions around him, the light seeming to spoil his eyesight significantly. An intermittent air of claustrophobia began to attack the nerves, albeit to little avail and rewards. He continued walking, trying to spot any sigh of life or finding any ways or solutions to escape this strange dimension he was not warn to go into- game logic should always warn their players of the next choices!

When he believed all sounds to be nonexistent, he heard IT. The sounds of clashing metal, clopping shoes and the quick partings of the air. Then there were the grunts, the battle cries and all sorts of noises. But then, there was only one distinct voice in the distance. A young girl's vocals, to be precise. The sounds of tiring fighting was of familiarity to Keima's ears, but, as the battle possibly got closer, attention quickly shifted to his own bodily safety. Quickly running back to the restaurant, he hid himself behind its glass door, his eyes surveying the outsides through the transparent material. And slowly, the fight was in view for his eyes to compel to. There were two figures clad in dark clothing in front of him, on the tar road, clashing swords against their opposing attackers, another figure of weaker build but, as he felt in the atmosphere, a stronger fighting spirit. And as they jumped through their surroundings; up the roofs, rebounding from the walls and dashing through the ground, he found it compelling and marveling for the eye to watch. Their movements, postures twitching every second for perfect landings and blocks; their attacks fluent, swift, silent like the wind. Both sides were of no burden from tiredness, their stamina having trained for situations like this, but the one with the fighting spirit: a young woman- he noticed with a squint of the eye- was chary with her energy and movements as her muscles began to tire. For how was it possible for one to never induce one's self-fatigue after all the acrobatics he had bear witness to at this very exciting moment.

Was this a ninja- a Shinobi- he asked his conscience, whose eyes and senses glued themselves to the ethereal performance in front of them. Maybe it is, it replied back with faltering certainty. Even though his hunger had not been victualed with any nutrients and satisfactions, his bodily requirements disappeared once he saw the first strike from the girl, whom had sidestepped and stabbed the enemy with her two blades, one shorter than the other. The sudden fatal wounding had cut off all thoughts in Keima's mind, and all senses of awe disappeared in an instance, his mind replacing that emotion with great uncomfortable shock.

But then, as the fatally wounded person- a ninja, he again presumed with certain doubt- fell to the ground, his - or her's - skin began to deteriorate into nothing, revealing, not a skinned human body, but a human-sized wooden doll, complete with the harsh sounds of knocking wood; that sudden revelation had given Keima a violent start. Although instinct had instilled relief on the information that what seemed to have been a real person who had been stabbed was none but a dummy, his heart still throb in great speed at the fighting, which had intensified somewhat. Of course, for all who were sane and had placed a value their life's, he was discouraged by instinct not to intervene, but instead continue his safe, harmless distant watching; but then another side of this life-caring emotion had wanted him, urged him to at least do something to help this woman. And so, he quickly drifted into a mental debate, questioning his omnipotent mind as to any doable actions that benefited the girl but preserved his sanity and physical health- what man of any lineage and mental state would never choose to act in selfish beliefs?- and he thought of this while he watched behind the door, somehow, to his advantage, undetected by these ninjas outside. His thoughts continued to trail through, but his attention, his senses were all of habitual activity, aware of his surroundings lest the ninjas were to accidentally crash into him; but the sudden high pitch sound of metal slamming at the door quickly had warded off all thoughts, snapping him out of his awed trance and causing him to quickly stagger a short distance away from the door, the warning of being spotted a considerable danger to him.

It had seemed that the battle was to be a lost for the girl, whom now had cuts all over her clothing due to her fatigue movement and blocks, and was now on the floor, with a blade ready at her neck. Of course, charitable wishes filled Keima's mind, but what actions he could do, he did not know. He was not a fighter, he certainly knew that. The enemy was a dummy, a puppet, so to speak, so what was he to do? Then the realization of the sword on the ground and the common knowledge of puppetry came into him like a flash. He knew what to do, but time hindered him from continuing any considerations. There was little time to act, anyways.

The girl on the other hand, a child of only 16, was now sprawled on the floor, her hands devoid of any form of weaponry and her adversary standing above her, face of inhumane, merciless emptiness and katana ready for the blood that was to be shed. The girl only gave a subdued cry of surprise as the puppet's left hand clasped on to her neck, carrying her up to its head with no difficulty at all. She choked at its vice grip, her own hands clawing at its arm in feeble attempt for survival, but the puppet did not falter. And as it raised the blade into the air, she continued to struggle, inner wishes telling her to fight with the last ounce of energy, and stay alive.

But then, by a stroke of luck, the grip loosened, and she fell half-limp on the ground, unable to fully comprehend her escape and preoccupied by the gasps of air she needed. Looking up after, sufficient air had begun to circulate through her again, she noticed him. A boy near her age or perhaps a year older, with the longer of her blades in his hand, was in a pose beside the puppet, that denoted that he had swung the blade with much energy. Looking to her with eyes behind sight-enhancing glass, Keima muttered with an air of serious intentions, pushing the ridge of the glasses up at the same time:

"A puppet always had strings. If you cut them, then what's a puppet? Just wood."

But, to his denial of predictions, what he had cut above the puppet- an area he had believed to have all the strings used to control the puppets- was only the string of influence controlling the left arm, which was now limp and of no foreign manipulations. A new course of action quickly laid itself in Keima's mind; he quickly threw the blade to her, which he caught with little trouble, and yelled with great energy; utterance a difficult form of speech at such an adrenaline craving moment.

"BREAK IT!"

Paralyzed by the loud, authoritative voice, survival instincts and the stranger's command had begun to control her movement, and, with a cry of victory, she cut the puppet in the waist, snapping it in half and stopping all movement of it. The sudden advent of victorious triumph was, sadly, overshadowed by the sudden realization of the intrusion this boy had committed, but as she tried to murmur the compelling question, she only became silent, guilt tightening her heart.  
She had needed outside help to destroy these puppets.

Was she weak?

Keima only watched in silence, as his beating heart began to subside and as the girl in front of him continued to crouch on the floor, in a state of unnoticeable confusion. But, to his expectations, she looked up, but instead of praising, or even giving a word of thanks to him, she only muttered, with teary eyes and a trembling voice:

"W-who are you? How are you in here? When did you-?"

* * *

Then it was gone, surrounding and all. And Keima, the boy who had seen so much in so little time, had found himself mysteriously outside the restaurant, but now, instead of the middle of the road where he had saved the Shinobi, he was at the roadside, colliding softly with those who were returning from their businesses and occupations. He only stared straight in stunned amazement, his mind being of insufficient haste of existing thought to form a theory of what he had seen. It had all been real, he assured himself; for where did these marks on his hands belongs to other than the hilt of the girl's blade? The account of what he had seen was slowly repeating itself in his mind, but for now, the absence of a certain devil had taken his curious attention. Finally noticing the restaurant nearby, he quickly approached it, but before he could open the door, the familiar figure of Haqua opened it first, pushing it into his face painfully. The sudden addition of Keima's presence had been of much startling to the devil, but her emotional complexion quickly returned, and she screamed in anger and panic, "Where were you?! Where did you go when I was talking with Dokurou!?"

Of course, these questions were to be attended to quickly due to her womanly patience, but a certain thought stopped him from replying. Instead, he said to her, raising his voice slightly at the end, "Can you use your sensor quickly. I need to use it for something!"

"Eh?" she replied with a calmer, but more puzzled tone of voice, "O-okay. Even though the whole of Tokyo is filled with Runaway Spirits, I'll turn it on anyways." But the fact that Tokyo had many Runaway Spirits was on the bias basis that no devil was on patrol here, unlike all the other places in Japan, that had spawned the belief that Runaway Spirits were of rampant attitude in this city. But what was there to actually prove-

DORODORODORODORODORO!

The annoying, but informative sound of the sensor began to ring annoyingly, the sounds never close to stopping through natural means.

"Oh my gosh," Haqua checked the sensor at a whim, "There are Runaway Spirits everywhere!"

Somehow, the difficulty of this task seemed amplified by the amount of Runaway Spirits in the area. How it came to be that so many Spirits would reside here with the Shinobis still prohibiting access into Tokyo was incomprehensible to Keima, whose plans were quickly shattered at the thought that all evidence of the girl he had saved slowly washed away into obscurity.

But of course, Haqua's question was still one to consider, and, after she had shut her sensor off to stop the attraction of unwanted attention, he began to explain to her what he had seen, from how everyone disappeared, to how he saved the Shinobi from the puppets. There was some doubt and disbelief from Haqua in what he had said, but the silence she wore had benefited him to continue with no pauses his sentences, and when he finished his explanation, he saw a face that told him, with great sincerity: 'WHAT DA HECK?'.

"Keima, are you sure you saw all that, or were you hallucinating? Is that because you haven't played games for a while?" The mindless, false reason for his disappearance had only angered him to an extent, but he kept his temperature down, and continued.

"Hey, can you make your sensor go back a few minutes? I want to see if the Shinobi I saw was on the sensor."

The request had come as another surprise to Haqua, but she complied with little resistance, and, with some quiet seconds, she adjusted her sensor to detect Spirits which had been in the area moments ago. Five minutes, to be exact, as Keima had no presumptions of time on his thoughts, and it was only proposition from Haqua did he settle for a presumed time. And, to both their surprises, there was a detection; spirits had been in the area, but there was one that seemed to move in surprising speeds, one that no ordinary human, Runaway Spirit host or not, could do, even with much training. And, with Haqua's brilliant hagoroma, which scaled in terms of utility on her academic achievements and professional usage, she recreated the scene five minutes ago. Again to her surprise, but to Keima's expectations, the person who moved extremely quickly with the Spirit within her had not appeared in the hagoroma's scene reenactment, thereby proving what he had saw as real. But the question of where he had been to see that sight was of much unanswerable consideration, at the moment.

"So, you're saying this Shinobi is the one Dokurou and her 'friend' want us to capture?" she asked.

"Maybe," he replied, placing a hand on his chin, "But for now, can you tag the girl for me? I have to find her."

"Eh, but can't we just wait for tomorrow, when we go to Hanzo Academy to meet Dokurou's friend? We can execute our first move there, can't we?"

"No," he sharply replied, his eyes narrowing as his thoughts continued driving its gears, presumptions as theories continuously crafted in his mind. Pushing his glasses up once more, he turned his head to Haqua and muttered with sever seriousness. "We can't do the first move there," then he gave a brief pause, allowing an air of tingling pressure seep into their surroundings.

"Because I've already done it."

* * *

**Sorry for the delay, dear readers. Read and Review PLX.**


	13. Chapter 13

Asuka had little comprehension of the events that had unfolded just a mere hour ago. It had only been a simple mission given to her by her fellow Shinobi, but lack of information- or worse- had brought her to a close call with death. Lack of preparation had also heightened her chance of a swift end, but of course, there were manners of people and places that had an unbiased influence to all that stood in, or near it. Puppets were of an unprecedented appearance, of course, but so was that other entity within her Shinobi Barrier: a special field that only Shinobis can create, so as to fight and disturb none in the living world. Fighting prowess and dexterity with her Kôdachi had seemed to rust in the ages, and this brought with it complex emotions, all of dreaded dispositions.

And more mystifying was the sudden appearance of the boy- another event she had no soothsaying of- whom had saved her from this swift death, one she herself was unable to prevent. But even with pouring questions that seemed to have excluded all sorts of other thoughts, as she continued thinking of the boy, the words of hopeful expectations began to flow back like streams of frost, slow but providing no warmth or comfort, and she sighed with a smile that had no prospects of gold or treasures, unable to detect the sudden abandonment of the more peculiar subject she had been questioning of.

A solemn air of tiring, subdued anxiety and desperation had been holding her hand for so long, for reasons she herself had not known. It all seemed to appear a fortnight ago, where she, in a clash with the local Yankees, had hit her cranium in the scuffle. She had been unconscious for nearly two days, and, once all had been resolved with the mission and her consciousness, the mental prediction of all her friends discriminating her had made her heart leap violently; but she kept it away from everyone, mouth silent of the delicate subject. She, even with external stimuli was unable to bring herself to ask if all expectations placed on her had been broken, courage for all questions quickly rotting away into nothing; and these thoughts were all fueled by the sudden chain of failures within her personal missions, something she saw as quite a surprise.

Hands fumbling and turning through the cabbages, Asuka continued examining the vegetables she was tasked to buy. It was only a local supermarket near her place of lodging, so she had much aid from memory and instinct. Placing the round vegetable of ample size and leaf into the basket slung on her arm, she continued her browsing in silence, the heat of the heaters and the cold of the open fridges colliding on where she stood, creating a pleasant feeling of variety. The slow winter was marching into season, and she, to her slight discomfort, only wore her school clothing; a plain white buttoned shirt styled with a breast pocket, a miniskirt of blue dye that exhibited her thighs, and formal shoes with knee-high socks- noticeably thin clothing for such shifting weather. Her red bandanna, worn in the preference of a scarf was also little in repelling the cold. Maybe the choice of a sweater or jacket in hand would have pleased her body limits, but, unfortunately, there was no such thing as what she had wished.  
The sounds of another pair of shoes clopping through the same aisle had snapped her out of her shivering, and, with hastened thinking, she reached out for another food item on the list: a daikon of impressive size; but- fate and destiny were bedded in at the moment- another hand had reached for the same vegetable, and, with born reflexes, she retracted her arm in alarmed speed. The other party did the same, but their movement was more slow, subdued, and connoted a milder surprise.

"Eh, I-I'm sorry-" she stopped midway her apology as her eyes laid hold on the other's physiques. It was the same man, the one who had been in her Shinobi Barrier. Who was he? Why was he here? Where did he go once he disappeared from her sights? How did he know she was here? The sight of the shopping basket on his own arm had arisen the belief that coincidence had been playing a foolery of her and, she had predicted at the very second with a trembling mind, him also. But there was no knotted face of stunned realization on the boy, to her prediction's great surprise, only emotionless eyes of boredom and ignorance to the surrounding as he proceeded to grab the daikon, unwary of her emotional turmoil, which she kept, behind her throat, in order not to make any scene worth any attention turning at. Then, the thought of him being no more than a man of the same coincidental complexion came to her, and with this new belief, she placed her heart into the hands of chance; in the times if he revealed he WAS the man who she interacted with- talked to- in her Shinobi Barrier, there was the option of disappearing away and avoiding him, taking into account his quiet, almost suspicious activity and rare powers in infiltrating her Barrier.

"Can you stop staring?" the boy spoke to her, surprisingly, with little emotions; but there was a harsh wave that seemed to slap her whole body, a wave powered by the request for dear privacy. She flinched at the true statement and reflexively turned away in embarrassed disgrace, eyes now weak to his sight.  
"S-sorry, you just look familiar to someone..." she muttered quietly, her bodily urges unable to push her to speak any louder, although the chance that he had not catch her words was another possibility worth noting.

"Hmm," the boy murmured softly as he examined the radish on his arm, little care placed on the girl beside him. Asuka's own vision, whom gained back its lost confidence, failed to leave his face; the certain paralysis of confusion and wondering had been afflicted into her like a surreal reality, or, if one was short of tongue like her, surreality. After some time of eyeing the organic object of cookable properties, his gaze detached from the white surface to meet her own gaze, and with the gravest voice, for reasons only he knew, he said with no warning, "Can you help me cut this into pieces with your Kôdachi?"

"Eh? S-sure."

...

The words were too sudden for her to be fully grasped in her mind of little capacious properties- to no disappointment, as the words slowly processed in her mind while she cut the daikon a absentmindedly, with no notice of what she actions she had done to pull out her swords and what she had been cutting in front of him, she gave a great start at the realization that he had knowledge of her two weapons of choice. Of course, she knew trouble was 'up and about' the very moment she unsheathed her blades. Now that one person, whom she had no recollection previously before she was saved by him, had perhaps known of her identity and hidden occupation of passing family lineage, there was a thought that illicit mistakes such as this birthed punishments of the gravest concern. With this new thought in mind, she began to panic and her next speech was speckled with unprofessional stutters, her efforts to digress from the topic- a meager attempt to shift his mind and hide her true identity- a fated failure.

But it seemed that the boy had knowledge of her fear, and of what punishments were to be predicted to come; he placed a finger on her lips, and said in a tone that subdued credulous beliefs, "Don't worry, I won't say anything."

A slight blush of vixenish intent reddened her face, and she bared her teeth with cautious doubt, "H-how do you expect me to believe you?"

"HEY, EVERYONE! THIS GIRL HERE'S SECRETLY A NI-!"

"WAIT STOP!" She cupped the boy's mouth with exhorting hands, but the sudden movement had brought with it a disturbance in her balance, and, with careless footing, she fell, bringing with her the boy, to the floor. And in that one moment of grunting pain, Asuka found herself on top of another; the strange pose the two made was of unpredicted shape, and the strange sensation as her body pressed down on him WAS of a familiar tingle, but it seemed so foreign when the skin of a man was the replacement for the skin of another woman. No, there was no cliché ecchi groping of her large breast or anything of the likes- the boy's hands was sprawled far from her, limp on the floor- it was just the overall bodily touch that sent her into a strange pondering. But, of course, she wasn't going to lie on him forever, so, with quick reflexes, she pulled herself pulled him, albeit by the arm instead of personal movement. She then began to apologize with great speed of her careless conduct, unaware that the boy was now in a deeper state of thought than she believed.

Pushing his glasses higher, he then said, with a shaking voice of awkward arousing that seemed so unfamiliar to him, "W-well, i-if you had just believed in me, I wouldn't have said anything."

"B-but you were going to-"

"That was just a fluke to gain your attention. You should be thankful anyways, seeing how I saved you from those puppets."

It was true that he had saved her from death, and was even knowledgeable of puppetry and the nullification of it, but the mystery concerning his identity was unable to be ignored by her, and the lingering superstitions she imposed on him continued existing. Then, with some congenial resolve and confidence, she said to him, "What's your name?" There was some mute silent in his mind at the moment, as the next few words slowly crafted itself, and with this silence, he crated an air of awkwardness between the two, an atmosphere only she felt the full force of.

"Keima." He had no wishes to disclose his last name, in fear of a full identity reveal. Decisions between his partner had brought him this far; now was not the time to break the silence of his intentions and his reasons for being here. Finding her to have accepted his introductions, he said to her, "Then what's your name?" Her overall surprise was of no unprecedented oversight; there had been evidence that she had at fist believed him not to ask him her name after she asked his, and the beliefs that ninjas should never mix with outsiders was also a possibility for her surprise; she had not expected an exchange of information, seeing how she had shown how ferocious she could be in battle. "Well, you asked me my name, I think it's appropriate that I should ask your name? Or do you want me to tell everyone you're a ninja?"

"W-well, they won't believe you anyways." She kept steady her resolve, unfaltering in her standing. Asuka had wanted to go back to her academy and research if there had been any Shinobi of the name 'Keima' in the school book of Shinobi, but, even though she had expected a sigh of dissatisfaction and a full stop of his questions, there was no warning for the events that came next.

"HEY, EVERYONE, THIS GIRL'S A NINJA!"

"HEY, STOP!"

Before she could do anything, he began to run.

Around the table and fridge of vegetable displays.

She followed suite.

And in the next minute, the two had begun a race around the supermarket, with Keima giving an ever flowing amount of tease, an attempt to crack a nerve and build up more presence and overall importance, while Asuka, barred from using her ninja techniques as of the moment, used the traditional style of running to catch up with him, but after some time of vigorous exercise and aggressive play, Keima was exhausted, and his gamer legs paused in their movement. With this pause, Asuka gave a hard knock on his head, as punishment for his unfamiliar attitude.

"Please stop saying I'm a ninja!" She cried in a pleading voice, waving her arms around in clear desperation for the notice of her distress; sadly, that conveyed little emotions from him, and he only said in a babyish voice:

"Then tell me your name!" This disposition he donned rarely, but if it was to gain her attention and force her to talk, then he was ready to put it on, "Why are you such a mean Shinobi..."

The real ninja term he had blatantly used had not come to Asuka that hastily; she was more occupied on keeping his nagging quiet. And so, with doubt and hesitation, but also with the counter of desperation and curiosity for new information, she replied, "A-Asuka! Asuka's my name."

"Is that really your name?" he then ask, immediately after he dropped his mask of babied faces. And this question was not of curiosity; it was of another reason he had no heart to remember at the moment, as pure instinctive behavior had urged him to stay silent for the time being, as if it had believed that all who were alive and near would read the inner thoughts he had.

"Y-yes it is." She replied instantly with a wavering voice, unsure and unable to pinpoint his overall reason for this new question that begged its own list of questioning, "Why'd you ask?"

"No reason." There was a reason, if I must say. "Now, I shall make my leave. I've already done so much this afternoon, anyways..." he said it with a calm air, pushing the subject prior to this away, and there was little rush to what he was doing now. With no panic or injudicious words, he began to walk back to where he left his basket waiting, and this calmness and ignorance he conveyed to Asuka had left her speechless. She had believed him to continue his teasing, or even start to awe at her occupation, but this silence he gave off only made her shudder, this lack of enthusiasm and curiosity seemingly appearing inside him in a blink of an eye. She was unaccustomed to this shifting behavior, and, true to most that had predicted an action with the largest hindsight but receiving the wrong occurances, she stood frozen in place, her eyes trailing to him in scrupulous attention. Every part of him was quickly examined, but even with new information she herself had not noticed prior to this, there was no way to fully summarize his character. Was he a serious, but quiet boy of much history, or was he childish for reasons none but the wisest would conclude to have taken places. And who was he to exert such a large, pompous aura of authority than her? Who was he? What was he? Was he even human, to begin with? Of course, she had no inquiry dealing with him and his games website; although, to think of it, did anyone other than those close to him knew of his secret identity? There was little indication of this, but the surprising chance of her knowing him from these games was of nil possibility. This emptiness of wisdom then underwent a small process, involving the placing of information irrelevant to facts and truths, simulating the reassurance that she knew him.

And as he left her sight, memory was not of torpid state to her; it felt so familiar to when he disappeared from her Shinobi Barrier, with little explanation to this sudden occurrence, and the silence itself, that came with his exit, was too foreign for her to grasp. Then, with a quick strike of the thought match, a strange suggestion came through her mind: she could bring him back to her Shinobi class to see if anyone could identify him. Or maybe being him to her Grandfather, the esteemed and Legendary Shinobi, Hanzo. This man was not one to be ignored by people such as her; how was he so well-versed in how puppetry worked, how did he enter her Shinobi Barrier, and how had he tracked her to this supermarket- the questions he made as he talked to her had seemed indicative of the presence of no coincidence. But, as time dictated to all who sensed the movement of the stars and sun, she shook herself out of the train of lost thoughts and began to jog back to where she left her own basket, somewhat cautious that she would meet 'Keima' once more. Insecurity had a tight grip on her, and the sight of the boy seemed so unbearable for her, as questions regarding his real identity were still unanswered and open for emotional opinions and theories.

And as for Keima, there was nothing worth noting in great surprise at. She did as he had predicted, and even with such little information of her disposition was in his books, everything had gone extremely smoothly. Now his presence was known, and it had been cemented into her mind his name. And true, his shift in emotions was quite a dire result for his own self, but with her specs, he had predicted that she would freak, predicted that she would panic at his behavior of not wanting to keep quiet. And this panic was for her own good, right? The faint memories of the past seemed so forgotten to him before, but now it came back so fluently; the days of his old captures seemed so much like a waste of time, but he himself pressed on even with the lack of diligence and motivation. Other than the fact that he was to have his head decapitated if he denied work, there was a certain pity he had for them.

But what would any heathen understand from his miracles and words of wisdom? Haqua herself had been staring in confusion as he explained his plans, unable to follow with his thoughts; this lack of following was a great disadvantage to him, and even if Elsie herself was worse than this, at least she rarely talked back.

And as he exited the small supermarket with his grocery, there was a small tug to his attention, and he slowly turned his head back to the check-out counter. There he noticed Asuka, having clumsily stumbled to pay for her vegetables, waving at him to stop. And with that, now, was his next move.

* * *

Coincidence has many false roads to fool the innocent and the wronged. What can be truly called coincidence by the people, anyway, if calculating all the paths it could take would be as easy as simple calculus, like the ones existent in school and in the mind of all that had recited the whole timetable and division methods? Little things are truly caused by coincidence alone: a coin mainly lands on the heavier side, a die of common shape does not have the same surface area, size and overall weight on all its six sides, and meeting a friend in a party is by itself not fully fueled by coincidence. Neither is meeting a man of familiar expressions and shrouded history in a supermarket a coincidence.

One thing influenced Asuka meeting with Keima: it is like a road of stones over a serene lake; workers deployed after the advent of a mental genius in the midst if a small colloquy, built with materials and accessories given by those of higher class, and made strong to account for those seeking atonement and footing on top of these rocks. He had planned it all, stone by stone. And she was providing him hard results for all he had done for her sake. Now that he had laid two stepping stones; one had been from his encounter with her in her own space of fighting, which he had still no knowledge of the name, and the other from his 'coincidental' meeting in the supermarket, he now had a clearer path ahead of him. Just a few more rocks of measured sizes and assigned areas and his path should be done. But then, his capturing prowess had rusted somewhat after all those weeks of relaxation, and confidence was not pulling his carriage forever; he needed his expertise back, and quickly. True, although all had been planned and worked out, possibility of failure was noticeably higher than all his other captures, and caution was all he had been given to mine the gold below the dark gravel and bedrock.

It had been a few minutes after he had gone away from the supermarket, and the afternoon sun had set its orange gaze on all still out of their recognized and loved abodes, as shown with Keima and Asuka as they walked down the same road back to their own homes. Keima was silent as his feet clipped on the cement floor, aware of his path and her presence as he continued playing his beloved hand-held console, plastic bags of vegetables being the only weight he truly felt. Slowly he tapped the buttons, confusing the Shinobi behind him; for now, his identity was something no wisdom can pinpoint, and with this, he had cloaked himself in a shroud of mystery, identity, power and all. What man would play games, know how to defeat puppets and still have this childish side of him at the same time? True, he had believed his skill to have grown paltrier than before, but that was no translation to the unmistakable fact that he was still a formidable opponent in the world of Love, a world he himself had overseen and ruled once before.

Asuka herself was confused on the path he took. Was this coincidence moving its checker pieces once more, or was something unexplainable and defying of all questions afoot? There was something only she could not see behind this boy's thin exterior. The question of his identity, other than his name being 'Keima', was still lingering in the air, but the need of inquiring was absent in such an atmosphere as the one she fell into. There was no Shinobi training that suited this strange predicament, and she only looked at the ground as she turned to the neighborhood road; all beliefs that he would detach from her route were all defied as he turned at the exact same time she also did.

This was no unexplainable phenomenon, of course, if one should remember that 'all had been planned'. But now, all that was to happen after this was far from the mind's wisdom to understand. Chance was, uncomfortably for the God of Games, commanding the battlefield of Love. This situation was of much subdued praying and believing. As Keima thought of his sad position, which was viewed as of great danger, he took note of his surrounding, and, eyeing a glint in the distance, he pocketed his PFP and began to slow down his pace, until he was nearly touching shoulders with Asuka. The sudden proximity had surprised her, but she quickly gathered her courage and asked him with flustered bravery.

"C-can you-"

"No," he cut her off harshly as she flinched in startled reply, unable to understand how he had known what she was to say, as if his mind had drained all information from her thoughts. And, with a flick of his wrist, for unexplainable reasons, he then continued, "I won't."

What she was about to ask had been permission for him to meet her at a specific point, just so that she could bring her to Hanzo Academy for some questioning, but even an innocent request he denied with little guilt forming in him. But she was adamant in her words, and to show her persuasion, she fleetingly walked in front of him, until her front faced him while her legs walked backwards, so she had a constant distance between him and herself. She then replied with eyes of crossed anger.

"Who are you anyway?! You seem so strong but you don't even want to tell me who you are? Are you a Shinobi?! But you look my age..."

As Asuka walked the way she walked, a small tragedy struck her, and her footing lost the Earth's gravity, her whole body arching back, with her butt the most attracted to the force that had abandoned her feet. She gave a light cry as her arms flung themselves embarrassingly into the air, her whole body braced for the pain and ache while her eyes ready to close from reflexive jolting. But that never came. Her bottom never collided with the gritty stone below. The reasons for this, she was too dazed and confused to understand. All she knew was that two hands had gently touched her body; one on the back of her waist, and another on her right hand, and held her from the heightened pulling of the Earth,negating all damage that should have been unjustly inflicted on the smooth skin of her legs.

He had saved her.

With unimaginable speed, this boy she had thought had limited potential had rushed in and grabbed her, saving her from the fall. But the swift movement was not of human doings; so how did he move so fast? Was he really what he seemed to be? For now, those questions were quickly erased from Asuka's mind when she noticed the red reflected from the light of his glasses, and the position he had when he caught her was of an affectionate sort, but that was only for lovers; that was the only reason she had for pushing him away and hiding her hidden expressions away from him: because the position, the way he softly cupped her waist and the way his hands gripped her hand had seemed reminiscent of two who were to contact each other with the texture of their own lips after a dance of deadly dresses and formidable formalities.

But she had put excessive force into her push, and Keima was launched to a wall, where he crashed spine first- a great deal of pain even for him. Then came the apologies from the cause, the one whom he had laid a hand on that caused her to lay her hands on him. But just that force itself had overshoot his thoughts of the groans; how did she muster so much strength- on one arm, no less- to push him so far away? Flustering imagery had blinded her limits, and she instinctively tightened her arm with so much trained energy that even a simple push was of inhuman doing- he swore that, as he laid with his head on the ground and his legs high in the air with his back on the wall, that there had been a crack on the cement, albeit it had been extremely small. Getting back up with near-limp arms, he steadied his faltering body as she again apologized, and murmured, "Whoa, that was not what I expected..." while he readjusted his glasses, which had thrown itself around his face in disgraceful stupidity.

"I-I'm sorry!" she again apologized, unaware of the annoyance of repetitiveness that plagued the one she had been apologizing, "It was just reflexes, I swear!"

"Of course it was," he said with a pained calmness, "But that force, could you have concealed that better? As a Shinobi, you should be hiding your strength." Those words struck her stiff as he continued, "Isn't it a Shinobi's rule to never let their strengths or abilities be known?"

"Y-yes..." she was unable to craft another word in her mouth, lest she worried him further. Who was this man who had the knowledge to cripple a puppet's movement, the tracking skills to find her, the agility to save her from such a fall, and the utmost basic understanding of the Shinobis? The thought that he himself had been a Shinobi had not left her mind, and that belief seemed the most convincing in terms of evidence; but that thought shook her somewhat. He seemed so young, so how was he so strong and wise? He seemed unlikely to speak of his origins at the time, so she kept herself silent, her confidence too shaken to say anymore.

"Oh yeah," he then said after his body recovered and as the mood quietened, subdued of any emotions that broke the oddness the two emitted, even though one had done it purposely for his own needs, "Seems I'm splitting up with you."

"Eh?" she asked, puzzled and confused as she lost her thoughtful trance of so many meanings.

"Your place of lodging," Keima raised a thin finger, pointing to a splitting path at the distance, "It's the left road. Mine is on the right."

The sudden revelation of the knowledge of her home had come as a great surprise to her, and this overwhelming emotion that all mankind shall feel in their life had inclined her to flinch and gasp audibly. And to aid this startling discovery, was the fact that she had only met him one hour ago. How did he find so much in just seeing her? Was he a stalker, or was he just a Shinobi who knew the students here? Diffidence had refrained her from speaking or asking any question that would belittle him, but, with all she could muster, she said, "Well, b-bye, Keima. I-I hope I'll see you next time...!" The nature of this farewell seemed so strange to her. Why did she not stop him from leaving, and instead inquire him to give him his personal details denoting his relations with the Shinobi? A strange lingering emotion began to haunt her heart, but she was unable to explain the phenomenon detailing the gradual change of noticeable effect by unnoticeable presence.

"Oh don't worry," he strolled past her with much attention to the front of him, patting her closest shoulder with a brotherly speed, "You'll see me soon." And then he left, abandoning her to her mental turmoil without another word.

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**Review pl0x! Constructive criticism of my work is welcomed and very much appreciated.**


	14. Chapter 14

"Urgh..." Haqua peaked through her invisible-turning hagoroma, eyes laying themselves anxiously on the Shinobi silent on the road, any shred of just belief drained from her systems. Was this truly justified, forcing others into the field of Love's battleground, uncomfortable of their strengths and aware of weaknesses they themselves already had taken notice into? This girl, Asuka must be in much strain, after what had been revealed to her; who wouldn't be, after the revelations of one knowing personal subjects, being bombarded with criticism their own mental state were most prone to? "Are you sure this is going to work, Keima?"

The boy beside her, taller by a few inches, only gave a slight grunt as he continued walking, eyes in a thoughtful lifelessness, as if his thoughts had delved into the dark of deep analyzation; one that denied all outside influences.

"Why do you question God?" he spoke in a tone of obnoxious air, "You do remember the plan right? Asuka, age 16, birthday: September 8th, blood type-A, a Second-Year Shinobi, has a Runaway Spirit inside her- all because she looks down on herself; she believes that she is not meeting expectations set on her by everyone else."

"Oh," she snapped her two fingers, "It's because she's the daughter of a legendary Shinobi, right? All this information we got from Nikaido's 'business partner' says it all."

"Yes, as his, or her, information states, she has very high expectations placed on her shoulders. And with what we have done, I have made known my presence to her, and although the execution could have been somewhat better, seeing how this was a last minute thing, that is excusable."

"To think of it," she said, quite lost, "How does this even make your presence known?"

He gave a sigh, before explaining, "Okay, with your hagoroma showing us where she was, we successfully tailed her to the supermarket nearby. By now, she is still shaken of my arrival in that strange space of hers, and she should be vulnerable of my approach. My plan was to talk to her, get her to chase me so that she would notice me as a more significant character in her story, then walk with her through the road that she fell at. You were to wait there, and, with your hagoroma, trip her and pull me so that I can save her in time. Then I was to leave her pondering about me; something I myself predicted after evaluating her specs and personality. With all these events, she should be extremely confused about me, and her mind should continue replaying my image, thus solidifying my place in her mind as 'more than meets the eye'." Quickly turning around with little strain to his neck, he took notice of Asuka, who had begun to wobble away, her whole body in a confused spiral of questions regarding himself. His hypothesis had been true, but for how long she was going to ponder, he had no clue. It was all up to her mind, now.

"Well, what now?" Haqua asked as the sun began to set even lower, "Maybe we should go back home. I-I can cook those for us!" Snatching the bag with little care for any injury inflicted, she marched away, having heard enough to understand their situation that had unfolded. Keima only watched in silence as she left him to the dust, not in any state of emotion, but a state of drifting conscious. Tomorrow was his actual time to be integrated into Hanzo Academy, and he needed preparations before meeting this man who had an affiliation with both Shinobi and devils. To think of it, was it possible to be sided with both? Was he something of an ambassador of one side- if so, which? Who was this man, as he had heard from Haqua, that knew both sides of Darkness' mirror?

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"Umm..." the white shirt man wearing long brown pants watched as the tapping of buttons, a strange and ethereal sound to all in the classroom, entered their ears. This man had been interrupted as he had been teaching his wisdom, from a source he himself, and all that was distracted by this sound, was surprised to find. At the very back row of the tables, the one on the left, beside the open window of windy cessation, sat Hanzo Academy's new transfer student. A boy, playing hand-held games in class. What a sight to behold, most would believe; because they themselves believe it not possible. But this boy by the name of Keima Katsuragi had defied the laws of ignorant society, and had blatantly began to play games in class, pushing aside all complaints concerning this unmistakeable habit that disrupted the flow of education. Most disturbing was his inactivity as all tried to question and stop him, and his ferocity with his fingers; they seemed too fast for the eye to follow. And why must such a good lesson be defiled by such conduct of little merit? Was he really that consumed by boredom?

Truth he told, he was not playing for pleasure. He was playing to sate his anger concerning the matter of assigned classes. To summarize his disbelieved irritation:  
He had not been allocated to the secret Shinobi classes.

Such silly predicaments had denied him access into the Shinobi class that he believed Asuka to have entered, forcing his mind to scrape all plans he had for the day. And for what reason should he not be in those classes? That can be answered with a little peek at the conversation between him and the person they were to meet and cooperate with in Asakusa.

It had been an early morning rise for the two as the door was knocked by human hands, and, after some delay, Haqua had taken the time and energy to open the wooden barrier for the mysterious person in. He was a man of around his forties, as Keima had come to believe, with white hair of a messy complexion and eyes of a wise, aged glare. There was no introduction, just him coming inside for a shake of the hand with Keima himself. True, confusion had struck the tired boy rather quickly, but quick questioning had revealed him to be the man he was to meet when he came to Asakusa. And, as the conversation had paved itself:

"You must be the one who was sent by Nikaido-san, am I right?"

Keima was silent for a moment, taking in the man's appearance. The man then continued, "I was Nikaido's friend some years ago. I met her during a meeting between teachers. My Shinobi name is Kiriya, and I humbly welcome you to Asakusa."

"Y-yeah," he took his hand and gave a light shake, preparing his formal vocabulary, "Thanks, my name's Keima... So, what're you doing here so early?"

"I have heard from one of my students; Asuka, if you might have known."

"Oh, her. Yes, what about her?"

"She wishes to know more about you, as of what happened yesterday. What did you do, anyway? She never seemed so flustered before in class. You should be happy to hear that I told her nothing, courtesy of Nikaido herself." By now, he had found himself a seat in the form of a sofa that faced the television, and had gotten himself comfortable on it.

"Just strengthening my presence. You were the one who wanted the Spirits off of them, right?"

"Yes. As you might know, your mission is of dangerous circumstances. You are just an adolescent, and I do not see you as any more capable than a smooth-talker. If Nikaido says is true, you can 'capture' any girl's heart, therefore catching the Runaway Spirit. Such a hard method, and you seemed to have mastered it, from what I heard from Nikaido-san."

Keima cleared his throat, before saying, "Why are you here, anyways?"

"I'm here to tell you that you are not coming to the class of Shinobi."

"Eh...?" Keima began to blink in great shock and puzzlement.

"As of what you have done to Asuka, I am barring you from my class until further notice." Keima was silent, unable to utter even a simple word, and his face seemed muddled, shaken with silent disbelief. And all plans regarding his entrance into the class had already been laid out during his sleep, too... "Even though you have saved her from death, I myself do not feel confident of your skill with love, seeing how your records from Maijima High are all speckled with 'he plays games every time'. If you want to come into my class, I only have one criteria: I will tell all the teachers to set a test for you. If you score very well from this test, and, if I might add with a bit of caution, that you successfully bring out the spirit in Asuka, you may enter."

There was a long silence between the two. All plans were shattered in Keima's mind, and he was now speechless and motionless, his mouth still open wide with shock. After some time of waiting patiently for an answer or even a physical response, he muttered, "Well, it seems I must take my leave." Kiriya gracefully rose from the seat with little disturbance to the atmosphere, before he walked to the still open door, "See you later." And then he disappeared in a large cloud of smoke.

And Keima became stone for the remaining hours until his departure to Hanzo...

Well, it seemed to him that improvisation was of a necessary action for moving forward. And with Haqua's hagoroma's tracking utilities, he was able to track Asuka down, anyways. There seemed no need to go to the class, with this advantage in mind. But all the high-value events he believed were able to occur in this environment had all the opportunity to occur in the building outside the window. The old school building which he was informed to house the Shinobis and their basic facilities, and all opportunities that he saw had also been housed there. He was now limited to a few options; in a dangerous life-threatening situation such as this (if one remembered the regulations imposed by the Shinobis), there was no blessing from Providence, just dark paths, all of dangerous persuasions.

The test itself was also too easy to even consider, and what problems he had were all due to the scraped plans he had with Asuka. And this irritation he himself was unable to shake off lingered like a haunting ghost, giving discomfort to him.

"Mister Katsuragi..." the teacher muttered in uncertainty, "Can you refrain yourself from playing our games?"

"Can you just let me save first?" Even though he sounded the same as how he said it before- to Nikaido and Kodama, nonetheless- he went as far as to forcefully plant his knuckle on the wooden table, creating such an indecent sound that startled those around him. He was not ready to tolerate anyone stopping him from his games, nor was he tolerant of any other disturbances from the outside world. For now, the ventilation of cooling game air was the only thing that should calm him down, and his mind at the least began to relax in the serene tapping of buttons. Instead of resorting to mindless brain ranting of the subject, there was an essential need to suppress the annoyance from takin over all thoughts. Later, he would discuss with Haqua of any new plans he would craft before lunchtime. Any chance must be sought after and reached, he thought, before time gives him the next obstacle. And this next obstacle was one he shuddered to find himself in.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello, fellow fanfiction readers or writers. Sorry for the short delay in chapter posts. Other than that, thank you all for reviewing my fanfiction. Yes, the problem of excessively long paragraphs has been noted, but sadly I have pre-finished the fanfic before I posted it, so it could be a reoccurring problem. Sorry. Also, there might be small nitpick errors around my fanfic later on, due to my wavering knowledge of TWGOK and Senran Kagura (I don't have any of the SK games, so the world of SK is somewhat vague to me). Other than that, thanks for reading and following. I am happy to see you guys at least read my fanfics.**

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The question of who he was was a question worth ferocious debate, she believed; for who was he to exert authority to one whom he, as she thought, knew was one who battled with and against Shinobis. The childish face of this man, whom he introduced as 'Keima' was such an extortive thought, insisting attention for its presence. The otherworldly grasp the thought had on her brain had caused her to shudder even as she chopped a straw-stuffed effigy into nothing but the material inside it. She then wiped the sweat off her brows with fatigue-pained arms, but the sweat was not results of vigorous movement and the swinging of arms, but doubts of who he had been, shivers of the unknown corners of darkness. She had not asked Kiriya-Sensei of the mystery boy, as she herself had little chance to speak to him, but generalized ideas of him had, as stated before, already been formed inside her, replacing the doubts of the 'unknown' with false information of comfort. The discursive thoughts continued its cycle of questioning belief; how strong was he, was he a Shinobi, and what had he meant by 'You'll see me soon'?

"You'll see me soon."

"ASUKA-CHAN!" the sly but sing-song voice behind the Shinobi called to her with unparalleled energy, and, puzzled for the person's reason for calling to her, Asukap turned around, only to have two playful hands lay on her large breast, startling her and causing her to gasp in sensual disbelief.

"K-Katsu-Nee!" she screamed with a flustered disposition, trying her best to protest against this assault of adult levels, albeit devoid of any anger, face flushing red with embarrassment as her friend continued massaging her in her sensitive area, "S-stop it!"

Of course, there was no stopping the blonde, blue ribbon-wearing girl from her aggressive, albeit mischievous tease, as she said to her with a seductive tongue, "Oh, Asuka-Chan, don't try and make me think that you hate my touch. I think you love it- or do you hate me?" Her last few words were seasoned with lying sadness, but that was of no surprise, coming from the tomboy by the name of Katsuragi, whose affection for the woman's breast was unrivaled by all she knew, even though she herself had the largest set amongst the Hanzo Shinobis. And with prior knowledge of Asuka herself- in terms of her extensive exterior anatomy and the direction of her own wave of emotional movement- her words had hit her sore of any anger, allowing her a few more seconds of bodily touch. But before all harassment was to be in any way too far, a katana scabbard, of bluntness that damaged all that smacked the edges, smacked her own head, stopping her from committing indecencies that would at the least disgust those whose purity were of an iron will.

"H-hey, Ikaruga, why'd you do that?!" Katsuragi cried in red resent as she addressed her pain on her head. The 'humph' she received back seemed harsh to her, and she groaned childishly at her adversary: Ikaruga. Placing her prized katana, 'Hien', back to the sides of her waist, she glared at the blonde until all desires within the tomboyish woman disappeared from the scanty mind of hers; and with that done, she herself looked to Asuka with a light frown that conveyed no disappointment, sighed, and said to all ears who could hear:

"I think we should call it a day. Let's go and take a shower."

Hopping up from the ground she once sat on, Katsuragi exclaimed with no tiredness or weight from the light wound in her head, "Oh heck yeah! Now I can see everything!"  
With those words, Asuka covered her chest with both her arms, a sense of insecurity being covered by evolved reflexes. Katsuragi had taken a liking to her breast, and it had seemed to become somewhat of a traditional event every morning, and although everyone had vetoed that she should continue this irritating behavior, there seemed to be no force that could stop those hands from slithering to, and sometimes INTO, her hapless prey. And even though the blonde's strongest deterrents to fully harassing Asuka were Ikaruga and Kiriya, these deterrents provoked no effect in stopping her hunger for sensual touching, but of course, the other deterrent was her own limit, the one that stopped her from going too far into the unknown reaches of the human body.

While the three were gathered at the side of the room; the gym, to be precise, there was another young student training on the other side of the room, although circumstances had made her to worry about the absence of one dear to her- one had disappeared from the maps of Asakusa, a short rest something her teacher thought necessary, even though there were certain complications and unexplained backgrounds behind this strange proposition. The girl, by the name Hibari, was lonely. Not for her supposed lack of presence, but for the empty surrounding. She always trained on the very spot with her dear friend, and individuality seemed a belittling subject, now that she wasn't here.

"Hah," she gave a cute sigh and sat on the floor, "Hibari is so tired..." This manner of speaking, she developed herself, and it gave her a child-like shine to her speech. While she sat, a shadow loomed over her, and, with mild curiosity comparable to a child's, she quickly raised her head and noticed her teacher standing above her. Her feet moving instinctively to stand up, she greeted her teacher with a respectable tone.

"G-good morning, Kiriya-Sensei!"

"Morning?" he checked his watch with analytical eyes, "It's already the afternoon, Hibari. The others are already going to take a shower. Teamwork is fundamental for Shinobis too."

The slight embarrassment was of much significance to the pink-haired Shinobi; she became so critical of it that she bowed apologetically to her teacher with great speed, albeit it quickly stopped when she lost her balance, nearly tripping on to the wooden court. Whither her skills and bland clumsiness would ever truly improve was unable to be said, even by Kiriya himself, and although her inner strength had already elicited from her- she was able to summon a bunny- her fighting prowess was below what he himself believed to be an optimum level. The 'weakest' in the group, she at least could still put up something of an adversarial's mask, but her attacks, he once observed, were of little effect to the, as his inner voice felt a disgust to say, 'enemy'.

"You should go with the others, Hibari," with much attention to his surroundings- skills he himself learnt from vigorous training- Kiriya had noticed her friends in the distance, and to indicate their leave, he raised an arm to point at the group as they exited the gym, "It's time to call it a day. Tell them I was finishing some matters before coming to school, and that after your shower, you have to take the left corridor, the one that leads to this gym, back to class. The other hallway is being repaired as of the moment."  
"O-okay!" That was all she could muster from her throat before she left the teacher, her pack of allies a reachable comfort to her. But as she left, her teacher did not, contrary to his everyday behavior with the girls, follow. Instead, he ordered himself to turn around as they left his sight, and with that done, he said to the invisible man at the opposite door:

"Don't think I'm going to help you again, Katsuragi?"

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"So what is it about this 'Keima' guy, Asuka-Chan?" spoke Katsuragi, as she left the transparent fluid flow down through her body, the water's path undecided but still able to reach the ground.

The whole shower room resonated splashing as the water of the shower head expelled itself with moderate, comforting speeds and width. And the steam that slowly emitted from the water was a blanket to those that showed their bare bodies in the showers. The white tiles, true to their flat surface, were slippery with the water's aid, but the feet of those accustomed to walk these slippery surfaces were unfazed of this potential danger. This was their shower room, away from any common eyes and ears- their identities were unknown to all other ordinary students attending the prestigious Hanzo Academy, a rule imposed with utmost strictness for all Shinobi. Shinobis, no matter the circumstances, have to follow rules and principles, else the dangers of their identity being revealed becomes a possibility.

Asuka herself had done what she believed to be a grave mistake, and the mistake at hand began from fighting the puppets from yesterday. She just could not shake the question off; forget the depressive state of mind, this 'Keima' was the true plague, the true foreign disease in her mind. And any questions regarding the mystery man made her flinch in a meek leap of heart; one such question being from Katsuragi had made her drop the soap bar.

"K-Keima? Well, w-what of him?" She gave an uncertain flush, her breath interrupted with uncertainty in the mouth.

"You know, your CRUSH that you keep talking about when you went home?" With Katsuragi's taunt, Asuka's mind created a deeper bloom in her cheeks, and she was urged by pride to not leave it as it was. Mustering her trembling breathe, she, with unstable stuttering, growled back:

"N-no! S-she's- wait, n-no- He's not my crush! W-what makes you t-think that?!" The disbelief and image that she was with him was a picture of embarrassment, and to her it seemed so unreal; she was unprepared, in both body and mind, for a boy in her life. He himself was as mysterious as the stars in the sky, and the fact that he was so cryptic with his words only distanced him away from her. He was not genuinely handsome, she also noted the night before, and his bed hair had not helped in his detailed symmetry. To put it in her own, more valid views, the idea of him even having any sort of knowledge regarding romance and treatment to woman was not even close to comprehendible; but as she thought about him and her own opinions of the shadowed protagonist, she failed to register or even consider the stirs and quickened pumping of the heart within her. She was blinded by her superstitions of him, the suspicions slowly developing into a cloak covering her true emotions that evoked themselves once he appeared again.

"I still do not understand, Asuka," this time Ikaruga asked, "You met a man yesterday, who saved you from puppets, followed you to the supermarket-"

"I t-think he did!"

"Okay, he presumably followed you to the supermarket, and you say he somehow knew some of your identity, even though it was blatantly your own fault that you gave your name to him."

"B-but he begged like a baby!"

"Asuka-chan," Katsuragi began to shampoo her hair as she spoke, "Sensei told us to not make contact with anyone outside school. You could be in BIG trouble. Speaking of big, how about I-" Before any unleashing of fingers were to happen, Ikaruga immediately cut in between the two, as if her voice were a wall, asking to Asuka with resolve:  
"How did he get through your Shinobi Barrier, Asuka?" This question seemed crucial to the lady of honor, and her soft glare gave no rewards for lies.

"I-I don't know, he just appeared without me noticing!"

"Hmm, that would be impossible... If one were to get through a Shinobi Barrier, there should be a great disturbance inside, and it should not even be completely intact."

"S-so," Hibari then gasped, "He's a ghost?!"

"Um..." sweat dropped from the katana-wielder's forehead, her mind somewhat in disbelief, "That seems... highly unlikely, Hibari..." Even Katsuragi seemed to be in a state of surprise; the extent of her words reached out to all near her, although, behind all their eyeless backs, Asuka had begun to seek a route of risk-free escape, her mind having swallowed enough questions for the day. Even though she herself had not fully watered herself clean, the urge had taken control of all body movement, and she found herself slipping away from the premise without any watchful detection. Quickly getting dressed into her winter school uniform, she slipped away, legs steering her back to class. Although, as time had been of a constraint to her, she swiped a snow-white towel off the cold bars of the hangers, and left.

But as she left, a strange stroke of realization struck her, like lightning if in the ground, a falling bomb in a city or a meteor many millions of years ago. An inward gasp nearly stopped her feet from taking another step forward.

She had avoided her touch.

For once in her life, she avoided the blonde's stimulating touch, while escaping the showers adequately clean and intact. While she walked away, she continued drying her hair with a snow-white towel, her two feet walking her through the corridor with small but soundly steps. The thought of the hallway straight to class being in repair was quite absent in her mind, as she was of average reaction to the topic. It only meant walking a longer distance, anyways. But as she walked the quiet halls- her friends were still changing- the silence was of great assistance to her mind as she addressed her haunting distress, one that lingered like a wanderer, lost but lodging in various places, unwelcome by all. The dreadful wisdom of weakness was of human detest, of mankind's moralistic hate; what man would welcome such emotions of weakness into their hearts? Truth be told, her friends had not inquired of her recent lack of success, but that only made her seen more small in the eyes of them, that they themselves would not wish to dirty their breaths with her. Such negativity was comparable to that of a foreign pathogen. But all defenses she had; reassurances, words of encouragement, and even rest, were of little curative effect to this disease.

The fact that Hibari had given a message from Kiriya himself had also took her attention. His lateness was a strange occurrence, but the delay was of no faze to her, and, with questions in hand, she got ready to meet him. Questions, all of this 'Keima' person she herself had much suspicion of, were on her list, and she was determined like hard granite to find out the answers of his true identity.

But then, what was this force that stopped her from walking any further? What was this force that told her to stand in front of the door to the gym, to marvel at the belief that someone was there? Then, the sounds of a swordsman's blade slicing the air resonated in her two ears. A sword, inside the gym, being swung around? Who was still doing training even at this time? Instinctive urges told her to open the door, to catch the mysterious intruder.

Intruder?

The sudden realization had brought her hands on the door, and, with tense muscles, she forced the doors open, and lost all breathe when she saw him swing his blade once more.

He had appeared again.

Keima.

As the wooden dummy broke into shapes of various widths and lengths, the glass-donning boy turned, with what seemed to be eyes of surprise, to the girl, whom had no control of the collision between the doors and the wall and clumsily caused an echoing thud that rang in the ear. But before they could both speak to each other, a sudden voice of interesting pitch called 'Asuka-Chan', and her attention immediately shifted to the group coming down from her left; all three girls had finished their delicate task of dressing, and were all walking leisurely her way. Body craving for assurance to his existence, she cried in grave desperation, "Guys, h-he's here!"

"Eh?" Katsuragi noticed her scream, and curiosity elevated to worry as she began to run to her friend. The others also sensed the unwonted atmosphere, and also followed the blonde's reaction; for what she had seen must have been of surprising sights to make her exclaim to them in such a tone of unfamiliar tremor.

"What happened, Asuka?!" Ikaruga questioned her as she stopped her dash.

"It's him, the guy I talked to you all about! K-Keima's inside!" Her breath was little, and she seemed so scarred to see him here. What really happened, the others had no knowledge of as their exchange of words considering the matter was brief, but it seemed that his presence had waned the Shinobi's sanity- a loss one can compare to a certain man whom first never wanted to move from his pedestal- and self-security to a point that she actually seemed to lose heart at the sight of him. But to her, perhaps if she showed them his authenticity, they would all choose to believe her, and maybe even repel him away from the school, therefore loosening the strain from her mind. But as she turned back to check if he had still stood there, the stunning revelation then came to her. He had disappeared, taking even the scattered pieces of the destroyed dummy with him. And all that was done with no sound, in less than a few seconds; speed incomparable to that of even the swiftest Shinobi.

"Hmm?" Katsuragi peeked inside, "Nope, don't see him. You need help with therapy, Asuka?"

Again she faced another verbal tease, but this one differed in the sense that it encouraged outburst; true to that statement, she cried, "B-but he was there! I swear, I saw him! He was there, with a sword, destroying a-"

"Calm down, Asuka," Ikaruga stopped her excuse, "It's plausible that a fast Shinobi could clear up traces of his presence. What you saw might be him, seeing how the possibility of him being a Shinobi is still open. Maybe we should make aware of this to Kiriya."

"Y-yeah, Asuka-Chan, H-Hibari thinks so too..." Hibari spoke, somewhat unable to quickly make sentences in her mind.

"Nah," Katsuragi then grumbled, "I don't think he even exists; it's just your imagination, Asuka-Chan, you just had too much training!"

The continuous denial of his existence, then the other continuous stream of theoretical proofs of his existence began to contradict the fearful Shinobi's mind, and she was unable to say anything as the group left to look for their teacher, all of them in their own doubts of this anomaly concerning this boy. She was visibly shaken by this strange boy, whom had stabbed her senses till rigor mortis had occurred. And there she stood, outside the gym in utter amazement of his disappearance.

Then he walked past her.

"H-HUEEEH?!" she gave a startled cry of disbelief as he walked to the right hallway, his eyes trailed on his PFP, one contraption she recalled not on his hand the day before.

Her mind began to sizzle in humongous disbelief; the base of this effect starting with the argument of if he existed or not, if he was actually standing there right now.

"H-how...! W-where...!"

"I," he finally spoke in a tone she remembered when she met him, "Was in the gym all this time. You just didn't notice."

"B-but my friends... they did't notice you too!" she hissed angrily, min unable to create the perfect emotion for this scenario.

Stopping his steps, he gave a piercing glance back to her, causing her own glare to falter. He then muttered to her, "That's because they all weren't paying attention. You were, but you never noticed me. Compared to everyone else in this class of Shinobi," he turned his gave away, and began to walk again.

"You are weak."

Slowly, he walked away, until he turned the corner some distance away from her. Her whole body shuddered in feared stiffness as he disappeared once again. What was this outward criticism that shook her so? Why, why did this boy have so much authority as to say that she was 'weak'? Why did he even bother to criticize her? Why did she take the criticism with so much hurt, even though she herself knew that she was slowly faltering with her skills? Why? Why? WHY? And as she heard her friends coming back, the droplets of fluid began to exert their presence on her face as her comprehension of the disbelief began to burst into tears. She was too confused to understand anymore. Who was he? WHO? And in the most visual way to cry for help, she collapsed on to her knees, and cupped her face in detaining instinct, the sniffles attracting too many eyes for comfort. And the questions bombarded to her by her allies had strengthened the flow; the allergy to external callings had begun, and, like any other human being, she was unable to cover the tears that flowed from her eyes. And all this was of no fear of the boy. If she had an intact mind, surely she could have withstood the increase in pressure; but the stimuli in her mind- unknowingly caused by the Spirit- made it so that she could no longer contain the sorrow and regret she bore, and her body let loose the unquenchable tears. Where was her savior, she remembered to have questioned days before. Where was he when she needed him the most?

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**Thanks for reading my fanfiction. PLS review if you wish. Constructive criticism (even though it hurts) is appreciated.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Oh damn, where have I been? In lazyland, of course. So, as a token of apology, here's three chapters in one day!**

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And all the while, Keima had arrived in the entrance, where Haqua awaited his presence. Noticing her buddy in the distance, she asked with curiosity, "So how did it go, Katsuragi?"

"As planned," he pushed his glasses up before pocketing his PFP away, "With that super-weak dummy you made and the sword I found in the building, I managed to create a scene that would surprise her until submission: she now believes I am stronger than her by a whole mile. And thanks to your hagoroma's invisibility, you covered me and the dummy so that the others would think I was never there. With their 'ninja' style of thinking, and my experience, I predicted that she would heed my words, and would start training tomorrow, secluded from her friends in their war area outside Tokyo, as shown by the schedule Nikaido gave us, courtesy of Kiriya."

"Wait, what experience do you even have with this plan?"

"Games, of course," he blandly replied with confidence, "This scenario is nearly the same as the one in 'Ninja Star: HEARTS', except the ninja's name was 'Sanada', instead of Asuka, and she had two friends instead of three, all with no names. That game was actually adequately good. Nice BGM, good NPC personalities and dialogue, but silly settings and the worst ending I have ever seen."

"Uh..." wishing to skip the subject, she then asked, "To think of it, do you really need to kiss her? I mean, she seems to just be lacking self-confidence. Isn't it more appropriate to just try and get her confidence higher to get the Spirit out?"

But before Keima could create an answer to the question, a sudden cloud of white smoke appeared, causing them to inhale and cough in instinctive reflexes. When the smoke finally cleared from the place, Kiriya himself stood behind Keima, although only Haqua detected his presence by laying her eyes on the mysterious figure behind her partner.  
"Lunch break seems to be over, you two," he muttered in an ominous tone, one that seem too dark for anyone to find comfort in, "I believe you should go back to your class, and you should be out of school." In that very instance, the two were thrown out of the building with little care of any injuries, and, as Keima looked back in angered blunder, the elder said to the two, "I've already given you enough help, Keima Katsuragi, and you won't be expecting me allowing you back inside. Your begging was really infuriating, if I have to say, and your play with Asuka's emotions appalls me. And how did you get Nikaido to your side, anyway? Never mind, go back to class; you need to prepare for a test, remember?" he then turned around and walked silently away, the door closing without any hands moving it.

"Damn it..." Keima growled as he felt the pain on his rump spread to his brain. Even though he was now fully barred from any of the more valuable events, the prospect that he had taken another step to success.

"He's just angry about the devils, Keima..." Haqua spoke in soothing attempts, her eyes and ears not wishing for any nagging.

"Yeah, and who was to blame for that?" giving a glare back, he stood back up and began to walk away as he addressed the time of his class. Haqua quickly followed after him, her two sensory organs spared of any complaints. Albeit she was to change her direction back home, where there were new preparations to plan for tomorrow. True, Keima had not actually disclosed any information regarding his plans for tomorrow- he had no plans as of the moment- but there were other preparations that need to be done back at the house.

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"To think of it, the question you asked prior to leaving the school is something I might consider..."

Time had flew by the day's skies, and Keima was now back home from his first day in Hanzo Academy, a boring day of information gathering and the utilizing of events to climb himself to his goal. By this time he was now sitting on the sofa, playing his beloved game console while addressing certain concerns the house held to him. "But I am considering the fact that she might be like the others whom I captured in the past. They slowly get attached to me, and I'm forced to kiss them. Maybe tomorrow's plans will be the final point, yes! Tomorrow will be the nails for this plank of stupid wood with baby words on them! If I fail this one, I'm gonna lose all the important events for the fastest capture route."

"But," said Haqua in a tone of pitied questioning as she began sweeping the floor, "Kiriya told us not to come to his class anymore. Do you really think he would allow us to interfere again?" Stopping her voice from trailing off, she asked another question in a voice of irritated rage, "And can you help me clean this house!"

"Nope," he blatantly replied, albeit the question he answered seemed to be both questions, "I won't help you with your chores, and Kiriya will not allow us to come into their training area. Unless you do something about it."

That announcement, she stopped all movement to fully process it. Surprised by this suggestion, she failed to take her broom as it dropped to the floor, her face cringing into one of harrowed disbelief and her body stiff as chiseled stone. Silence and pushed dust filled the air, albeit the dust only enveloped the saddened remnant of the 'Protector of New Hell'. "Eh?" she made a meek sound, her face flushed at the fact of dependence.

"You will help me sneak inside the training area," with slow pacing, he stood up from his seat and faced her with confident, but grave disposition, "And help me track Asuka. If my premonition is correct, their training area must be somewhere in the forests outside Tokyo. Tomorrow, you'll track her with your hagoroma. Give me the location, and make a 'Keima' dummy to replace me in class during lunchtime. I'll travel there by myself-"

"Isn't that a bit dangerous, Keima?" Haqua's tone was of deep but subdued concern, but the voice was of little concern, by itself, to Keima. Truthfully, the dangers were clear to the God of Captures, but what else was he to do? It would be futile now- and forever- for him and any other soul to quote 'I didn't sign up for this'. He was here to do what he thought was right, and risk must be met.

"I know it is, Haqua, but if I want to finish this job quickly, I need this route." The bravery in his voice was of little proof. The dreaded sense of uncomforted confidence had begun to crawl with an insidious slowness around him. If he had failed to conceal his the possibility of survivability would hit an all time low, a dangerous bet he had thought himself willing to take at the first thought, but a battle of doubts and cowardice at the second. He still noticed the distrust his body had with his choices, and he was trying his hardest to keep the seed of evil from blooming and ensnaring him with its roots. The reassurance that he was God had begun to slip from him long ago, and the driving force that pushed him to success was slipping too; or was it, seeing how he had been successful for the past two days.

For now, the firm grip he once had was not as strong as before. There was an essential need for strengthening, but what could be better than success? And although success makes arrogant fools out of all of us, it also breaks the binds of bound strive for the subdued and weakened. And he was weakened of his utility. This was no needed success for a quickening of time's pace, he thought, it was a success for encouragement.

* * *

Keima hastily alighted from the bus, out into the wilderness-surrounded stop near the mountains, outside Tokyo City. And in front of him were five people; one elderly of aged and wise complexion and four women of secret backgrounds and unbelievable proportions. Why they ignored the prospects of shooing this intensely staring gamer, only he knew; for they were blind of him. He was invisible, aided by the power of Haqua's own hagoroma, one he personally borrowed for the occasion today. His mission had started, but in a predicament he himself had little foreseeing of.

It had been what he had foreseen as a 'coincidence'; morning seemed not the climate for him to shine, as it had been Haqua who had spotted the group in the distance, boarding a bus behind the school as he entered the school. With no time to compile himself, he rushed to the bus, albeit with his memory slipping as he then remembered that he was not to be seen- he swiped Haqua's hagoroma for that task- but forgot the entire plan itself. And in what most would say as 'in the blink of an eye', he was in the bus, hiding invisible in the crowd, crouching behind everyone else as to avoid the touch of a loose arm, while he cursed himself for forgetting everything. Now the school would file him as 'absent', and Kiriya would investigate; but that was the least of his problems now.

Even though their chatter meant incoherent noise to the God's ears, he did gather what he thought of as viable information, and he had a quick look into everyone's personality and specs. And though their unusual personalities were of mild deterrence to him, the clichéd way they used their emotions seemed to pique interests; and a store of innovative sparks opened their doors to welcome all that desired its inventive hands. Of course, this was just another form of saying that he was full of idea, all useful to shorten the capture he had embarked for.

True to the events of last sunrise, Asuka had resorted to closing herself from most of her friends' concerns, and she, somewhat petite in presence, fidgeted in a mannerism of insecurity every once in a while on her seat, in deep doubt and paralyzingly fear. Of course, she had been afraid of him, her inner disposition withered into just a speck of former fullness; that of course did not mean her overall physical shape, as she was of a thin but curvaceous physique- but now that applied to all her friends. How do they grow so big, he had frantically questioned himself. True, that seemed hard to answer, although the blonde's fondling might have been his first answer, but that had been withdrawn, be it that it must have been impossible to grow so large at such a young age, even through constant molding and teasing.

Kiriya himself was of alerted senses, Keima noted. He attentively watched his location, as if pondering of a presence in the back of that certain seat; yes, Keima was sitting there, invisible to all, but his perception was heightened to inhuman levels- how was it that he was the only one who could sense the hidden individual, unlike all the others around, who continued their chatters. He would have taken the time to confide to the older man his progress and his next move, but Kiriya's own position in this skirmish had barred him from even trying. Of course, he grumbled of his rudeness as he sat on the bus, the teacher's occasional glances of puzzlement adding new biased information into his mind. But the way he treated his students were of a satisfactory kindness. Yes, he sometimes gave a smile that could be labelled complimentary- going as far as flattering- but he was kind enough to answer all questions his students shot at him with little hesitation, and all answers that came out of his mouth were informative enough to be understood by both parties: the Shinobi in training and himself. At the very least, enlightenment had occurred within him, and his knowledge of this secretive group had increased somewhat. Kings war with those they know; and Keima was here to continue this strategic thoughts with espionage movement.

When the vehicle dictated that it had to empty its bowels on the stop, he quietly snuck out behind all those h had followed, and, silent as before, he followed them into the forests, until they halted in a large clearing, where, after a short briefing with Kiriya, the Shinobis all departed to their separate directions, and Keima, with his Godly choices, followed the one he was most knowledgeable of.

Through the forest he followed her footstep, eyes scanning as if downloading all the pixels his surrounding held, and each step far from careless positioning, lest he stepped on a natural noisemaker. She seemed slow in her steel advance through the large and thin trees, which slowly parted way for their frequent visitor- there were markings on the trees- and further ahead, Keima stumbled into a bamboo forest, where he had carelessly tore his eyes away from her. Now he found himself lost and invisible, and a certain sense of panic set in; one of mild impact and of rapid growth. If time was not of mutual alliance with him, he would risk missing this event he was so urging for.  
In the light of the late morning sun, he began his search, fumbling through the shadowing stilts of the bamboo that menaced with it's looming shadows, hiding away all the little dots of detail in its darkness. Though it was shelter from the glare of the burning sun, the cold weather at the time had likely negated its usefulness against heat; but this train of thought was not Keima's now-forensic sight. Sudden bursts of speed propelled the boy through the twists and turns of the forest, his feet light on their impact so as to not attract close attention. In truth, he had much time before she and her friends left back to Asakusa; that by itself was acceptable to him, but the conditions he had wished for were only available at certain times. Times like now, with the humid morning mountain air and the soft sun in the distance, behind the moving clouds that seemed to grey in their ominous reproach to the wind.

Before long, the soft, shrill sounds of blades cutting through the atmosphere and the rustle of bushes enveloped the air, and a clearer sense of direction dawned over Keima's intellect.

After some time since he lost sight of Asuka in the emerald cavern of bamboo, he laid his eyes on her once again, albeit in the clothes he had seen her in once before.  
And now his plan was to unfold with Godly Splendor. He must not fail, lest he torment her more- the thought of her crying the day before had scared him too deep, and redemption was the only gauze for this wound.


	17. Chapter 17

In the clearing that seemed so unorthodox in the giant woody grass, Asuka's blades flourished through their hard stems, as if it were a knife through mere jelly. Her strength as a Shinobi seemed unrivaled with her two blades- one long and one short- although one would ask how her pair of breast weigh nothing down on her as she leapt through the air, but let that matter arise later. With swift fingers, she chopped another one of these long stilts that reached the skies down to the ground, in neat stacks of equally-sized cuts. Although she seemed to have done no mistake to those who would have seen her graciousness, her finger had actually slipped at one point and she had to maneuver her whole body, twist it at a certain angle, just to retrieve it back in position. Another mistake, another empowered strike to her pride. Her eyes were wide with sorrowing hurt as her hands weakened- her blades still stayed on her hands- and her breathing became coarse. But why was it coarse, when it had only been a few minutes since she came here to train? What had happened to the stamina she once had? Was it the fault of this festering doubt that took even sleep away?

And that boy, Keima. How did he get through her Shinobi Barrier, find her in the supermarket and follow her to school, where he somehow disappeared and reappeared just to criticize her of her skill? And why her skill? Maybe he was a Shinobi; a strong one, at best. Why was he here, in Asakusa, tailing her instead of her friends around? And why did Kiriya answer nothing of him when she asked yesterday? All these thoughts swam through her blind mind with little care for her. They seemed so tormenting, so demented and so mysterious that she had to ask Consciousness if she was slipping into depression. Albeit she wasn't, at all. The Runaway Spirit within her had bloomed, and it had its clutches on her weakening heart; something all devils would have seen as 'dangerous' and 'life-threatening'.

There was also another obscured emotion inside her, one she herself had not identified or even inquire about as of the moment; but this emotion had a life of its own: it begged, clawed into her mind with unstoppable claws, and urged with its fullest to make her change her believes on him. But why would she, when he had already branded himself as an antagonistic presence? Conflicting emotions had exhausted her to the bear bones, and she needed to let her bottled anger out.

Unable to bear the pressurized brunt of her sealed voice, she screamed at the top of her exhausted lungs, "I HATE KEIMA!" Of course, the voice echoed through the forest without hindrance of any sort, but any chance of ears hearing her ranting voice were a high possibility of nil, so she began to spit more insults into the air, "WHY CAN'T HE JUST GO AWAY!? He is so annoying...!" Her voice soothed at the end, their energy quelled by this strange emotion prior mentioned.

She stood motionless for another minute, her body frantically recollecting itself back into tired sanity. Her two swords had begun to weigh themselves on her arm, so she nonchalantly sheathed them away. She then approached with wobbly steps to the nice stack of bamboo, which had landed with the artistic's of a perfect touch, and sat herself on it, her back arched in emotional fatigue. Sighing in a depressed manner, her body loosened in tension as she looked to the skies, eyes mesmerized by the fluffiness of the white vapor known by mankind as 'clouds'.

Where was her enthusiasm now, the motivation that pushed her forward into the light? Her heart seemed to contract hurtfully at her efforts of enthusiastic speech. This handicap had made her from her happy, upbeat self to one of silent, closed doubts, with all these doubts unable to be shared to anyone she knew.

"You thirsty?" a familiar male's voice resonated through her, and a cold metallic touch nudged her arm with persuasive intent. As her mind had slowly become impervious to the detection of other terrestrial presence, she blankly took the can of juice from Keima's smooth hands, not even caring for his unwanted attendance.

It was only after a few dainty sips before her sound mind exploded into a flaming mess of panic and shock. She actually threw her drink many feet into the air in surprised reflex, and, within the splashing of juice on the dirt floor, she cried, or more accurately, screamed, "W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

"Many things," he replied with nonchalant voicing, his finger in the ear facing her to block the superfluous volume of her voice. Sipping his own drink till the last drop, he continued his suspicious reasonings with an influential image, "One of them is to see if your training schedule is good."

"S-so," she stuttered with faint realization, "You really are a High-Rank Shinobi! Ikaruga was right..."

"Of course I am. Your friend also seems to have better intuition than you. Doesn't a Shinobi need to trust their instinct every once in a while?"

"Ah- Yes, b-but...!" She then dwelled into silence, a shiver shutting her lips shut.

"Hmm?" Keima raised an eyebrow.

Frozen in place, she shuddered at the very thought of her words prior to his appearance. All the unpleasantries that came from her mouth before must have instilled some form of unimpressed negativity, unless he was pitiful in human mannerism and standard. "I-I'm..." she mustered her courage, "S-sorry for saying all that... I hope you forgive me."

"Ah," Keima gently clapped both his hands together, "You mean that? No, it was my fault that you were degraded in pride. I apologize." Taking note of her surprise and attempts to deny his apology out of politeness to those of higher standings, he found that her somewhat air headed personality had missed the angry nerve on his scalp; thus she had the face of apology, not fear. But he was not here to strike fear to the innocent- her insults were quickly erased from the blacklist- he was here for reasons that would make all raise their heads in respect.

On the opposite side, Asuka had slightly marveled at his information and clairvoyance when it came to people. True, the avid fear of him was still there, but there was a short burst of fascination of this self-proclaimed Shinobi. How observant had he been to notice the state she had been in? "W-what else do you know, then?" she asked in curiosity.  
Sighing, he began to count his fingers as he listed out the most surprising details,"Your blood type is 'A', you were born on the Eighth of September, your height is 155 centimeters, you are an F cup, your waist is 57 centimeters and your hips are-"

"S-Stop!" Her arms hastily covered her chest and pull down her skirt- reflexes after hearing such intricate and private details from a stranger she only met two days ago, "H-how did you learn all this?!"

"I just asked before I came here," what a lie he used. Now his predetermined path was coming together tile-by-tile. "It was nice for Hanzo Academy to give me all the details I needed."

"J-just who are you, anyways!?" she asked anxiously.

"Me?"

Straightening his back in an attempt to emphasize his height, he glared confidently at the girl before his mouth moved with grace while his vocal cord composed lyrics of detailed poetry to her ears, "I was commissioned by the Shinobi academy of... Um... Nara, yes, Nara! To come and personally train Hanzo's Granddaughter the ways of a Shinobi." Of course, the prior knowledge of if there had EVER been a Shinobi academy in Nara was unknown to him, but to survive now, the act of lying was a necessity, although regrets do come in distant futures least expected of their arrival.

"R-really? But why didn't Sensei say anything...?"

Noticing that she had not denied any false information he had spat out, he continued with considerable confidence and a glare that seized her attention. "True, I was assigned to you, but my requirements are that the other students must not know of my presence. Let that be your first and last task: Keep my identity a secret to everyone else- including Kiriya."

"W-wait, why am I being taught by you," she moved away from the pile she had sat on, and glared with mustering but faltering ferocity, "When were you better than Kiriya-Sensei? You're so young!"

"What does age have anything to do with this!" he suddenly hissed, the impulsive emotion, surprising the Shinobi and freezing her muscles to a complete halt. At the next second, it seemed that he had noticed his sudden anger as peculiar to his very own nature- evident by the sudden confused stare and the raising of one eyebrow to signify puzzlement. Sighing in relaxed contraction, he then replied, "That has nothing to do with you, Asuka. I am a Shinobi of a higher rank, so you have no right to question me."  
Such arrogance only served to annoy the girl. With a face full of pout, she growled, "Humph, Kiriya was at least better in personality than you! And you made me cry the other day! Why didn't you even tell me who you were the first few days ago?!"

"So you're telling me not to collect data for my mission, and to reveal my identity to the 'enemy'?" She immediately paused when he spoke, the belief that she had been rude a painful attack to her. "All Shinobi should at least collect information of those they are involved with, and to be hidden at all times during the process, even if it might not mean appearance and presence. True, I was harsh, but sadly you got through it with tears in your eyes."

Stomping his foot on the ground- an aggressive sight to behold to the fear-stricken Asuka- he continued with a push of his glasses, "Your willpower is so laughably small. I had expected Hanzo's own Grandchild to endure the simplest of taunts. Now I take back my word..."

She wanted to punch him. Utilize the sadness into rage, to fuel her drive.

But she couldn't. All she could do was slowly well up with tears till they were ready to burst out of her pair of sight-giving organs. Why was she so weak, she asked herself? Why was she going to cry? Of course, you would have seen that Keima had been heartless all this time to her, and albeit it had all been an act, she saw it too real, too hurtful. But her past self, the one before all the grief and depressive failures, would have proved to differ.

"Asuka," his voice made her jolt, and before her tears could come in a wave, Keima continued his announcement that pulled all to attention, "Try and cut that bamboo stalk in two."

She then noticed that he had been pointing to a thin stick in the distance. Not wishing to disappoint, she calmed herself down, before rushing with swift feet to the stalk, but alas, she slipped into mud, an embarrassing sight to behold. Quickly getting back on to her feet to prompt no further embarrassment, she noticed the unimpressed aura behind her, a shuddering, clenching feeling that she had dreaded the day she felt this way. Again her eyes welled with tears, and as they began to drip, she again slipped into the earth in blinded cause, now landing on her rear. Now what was she other than a mud-bathed pig? She then began to sniffle like a child trying to contain her tears and wails. As she tried to wipe the tears away, she smeared more mud on to her face, again heightening her embarrassment to new heights. Heights she would love to jump off of, right now.

But what was this generous hand that offered her a clean handkerchief? Why was this deceitful boy so full of morning light, now that he had redeemed part of his guilt with a piece of flimsy fabric?

"Get up, Asuka of the Hanzo family." His voice was still stern, but it had lightened to that of a daycare worker's soft disposition. "I am here to train you, not kill you by depression. Now come on, just a bit of training today. I need to go back home to finish my homework, and play games..." And as she accepted the white cloth, he dangled his arm in front of her, waiting for a grasp from the other's arm. Although he saw her distaste, her distrust for him, he waited patiently for her response, with confidence that an answer was to be given. Neither her sheepish manners and doubts could stop her from considering her answer. And in the end, she reached out, and nervously held his hand with a strength of reassurance; that her failures of the past were her gateways to the future of improvements.

The capture had truly begun.


	18. Chapter 18

It was a time before time, when the young God rose from his sleepless nights to take on a task he wished not seek ever in his own life. But nonetheless, he had placed his hands on the pledge that bound his soul to that of another. But it was not his choice, NOOOOOoooooope. How conceded he had felt months before, when the God of Games and Love had begun to woo his first target.

* * *

Now let me question your senses, why had he felt this way? What was the barrier that stopped any trade of motivation from ever reaching him, and why was it so strong, so reinforced in its place of honor. Callous he had been in the days before the sun ever rose. And callous may he be even till now; but every heart has a melting point, like every minuscule cube of ice, or every sizzle of the furious flames. Now he was at the least, considerate, wiser than the ordinary boy growing up in the 'countryside', he had called home. Exhortations and urging had done little to motivate him in the past, but now he was just with his choices, and he had ventured to this land far from his home, to once again save those in need of help, lest the eminent destruction of this world was to come. And though the unpropitious views of this new adventure had not come to his favor, he was certain it would succeed.

I mean, look at him now, sitting on the tree stump in the middle of the forest, still with his eyes set on the young girl he had been trying to help the first day he arrived.  
But he had not foreseen the dangers of today. The deadly presence of another more sinister being in the mountains, preying on unsuspecting people like the girl mentioned prior. With claws lusting for flesh between its fingers, it was merciless in its assault through the trunks and rocks as it searched for the delicacies below the trees, aged to perfection: young maidens.

* * *

"Asuka!" Keima called with a tone that gave no desirable merit to the one addressed, standing up from the tree-stump in which he sat on.

The woman in question flinched as he cried, her feet nearly slipping into the shallow stream she had stood on for so long, by orders of Keima- to catch fish barehanded. Flustered by the near accident, she cried back with anxious aggressiveness, "W-what is it?"

"You," steady with his feet, he threaded lightly through the short grass beside the embankment, quiet with his shoes, before slowing down as he reached the rocks and waterside, "Aren't confident enough with your hands. Just grab the fish when you know you can."

"But they're slippery!" she retaliated with an excusing hiss. He could only sigh before he bent down closer to the clear flowing liquid, the intentions of demonstrating to her the primitive easiness of clutching scales. As he laid his eyes on a small streak of silver close to him, his right hand quickly flung itself into the water, although it missed by a sheer amount.

"See, it's harder than you think!"

But then, as if on a scripted cue, he held this desirable silver fish on his hand; but it was not his right hand that held on the scales, it was his left. "When fighting an enemy," he said with a confident smile, "Predict and destroy. When an enemy is moving in an unpredictable way, lure them and make them predictable. Learn that, and I guarantee you, you won't be failing missions or losing fights."

The spurt of wisdom from this boy's own mouth momentarily stunned her. How much more did this supposed 'High-Ranked' Shinobi have behind his back? She had only met this 'Keima' two days ago, and his peculiarity had perplexed her to levels never seen in an ordinary person. He had shown himself insightful and wise of the world, and of her, personally and normally- the latter surprising her. Coining this new method of training that she herself never seen before had also shaken her. There was no combat involved at all, just tasks one would see in villages untouched by modern society; the activity of finding berries and potentially dangerous mushrooms, catching fish and even a simple past time known as converse. What were all these, anyway? And why had he touched upon such strange topics such as games, the internet, and one's fear? What was this regime she had been thrown into? She had little time to think of this, as she heard his commands to go back and try again. But as she again crouched on the same position she had once been before, Keima joined in, much to her flushing surprise. As sudden as he had come to be beside her, he began to give out guidance, mostly those that touched on self-confidence when it came to trying to grab the fish.

On Keima's own contextual view of the events unfolding, catching fish had not really been anything that required any pre-trained skills and clairvoyance. It had all been a ploy he had crafted a day before, to use the hagoroma as an invisible net- there was some training done with Haqua- and snaring the fish with his first attempt, so that he could capture it with the second attempt. And with a moral teaching coinciding with this awe-striking feat one could never see done by a game-loving boy like him, he felt prideful with this new image he made for himself. It reminded him of the time he taught Nanaka how to beat a 'certain' Goddess in Shogi. But now was a bit different; Asuka was in a continuous war with a Runaway Spirit that had full influence on her confidence, and she was losing in every front. After some inquiry, it would seem the Spirit had been with her for more than a week, so that was something worth noting when looking at her condition. And the fact that she had been the granddaughter of a ninja well-known in the Shinobi society had placed an extra burden on her dainty shoulders; what an irony, that society itself becomes a supporting antagonist in her life. Truly, he understood why he saw real life as a crappy game, and that could be pronounced true, if certain individuals examined life in a special angle and with an attentive eye. And the close proximity he had with Asuka was just another form off bonding; albeit it was quite troubling for him to avoid scraping his own arm against the surface of her chest, and worse, if he made it too personal, the capture might spiral into one of curing loneliness, not confidence.

Asuka seemed to be progressing a lot better than he had expected. True, she was a klutz these past few days, stumbling in situations he himself planned should not involve stumbling, but the more carefree side of her had slowly emerged from the somber abyss that she had been plunged into, freeing itself of the tendrils that wrapped her from top to bottom. She seemed weak of heart for a trained Shinobi of the second year, but that can be blamed for the malicious creature that resided within her. It was not to say that she was his favorite of all the Shinobi he had seen, but charms were present within her. Presumably due to her utmost trust with him, she had not asked him more of his identity, or if he truly wielded any form of martial arts. He had evaded all suspicion, much to his initial surprise, and all unprecedented events he had predicted would have a chance to occur had not. He was now walking down a straight path, something he would delight himself with if it were presented to him in feast-able form. And although his games were away from his body for many hours a day, he found the experience; watching Asuka try and accomplish tasks with feats of human agility, very incredible to witness.

Again, it had been two days since he had started this course with her. This path he had chosen for her was not of mindless violence, but a test for courage, self-confidence and willpower; three things she had been sapped of after contracting the pathogen known only to him and select individuals as 'Runaway Spirits'. Courses, such as plucking and identifying edible mushrooms from non-edible ones, were just to train her confidence with reassuring that these kinds were deemed safe by the usage of natural instincts. Of course, all Keima did for evaluation was memorize a book, come through the bus, go to the forest where he would surely meet Asuka, and then just look at the mushrooms. It seemed silly to use this method, but to train her to be confident enough to be sure that certain things were safer than they seem was an effective method to fix her problem.

And although this thin line was easily severable with careless words, he had forced himself to choose this route, so as to finish this quickly. The initial harshness of the path had concerned him, as it had been quite a high-risk, high reward one, but it seemed that she was a tad more durable than she had seemed before he started it with her. The problem itself was easily fixed with some encouragement, but the influence of the spirit was too strong, and her prestigious background had not helped much either. The severity had driven itself so powerful a stress to Keima that he had had second thoughts about blurting out 'Forgive Me' before fleeing the city altogether in the most comical fashion possible. That was what he could have noted as a selfish, introvert side that all men and women were born to have; and they were all to inadvertently rest their backs on the barks of this self-centered foundation one day or another. No one was as venerable as a baby in this world anyway. And as he continued trying to catch fish with Asuka, he found himself smiling with her, as she held the fish up into the air in glorious triumph. And if all goes well, her past vigor might return and he should have this capture finished this within another three or five days.

* * *

Of course, in most story, everything rarely goes well. In the shadows of the forest beside the congenial scent of a near-winter stream, the blonde Shinobi, one Keima only knew of- he listened in the bus- as Katsuragi watched as the two 'love birds' cooed, or that was what her playful mind had perceived, over fish- "How funny", Keima had once thought, "To think that my surname was the same as her own name." With some blessed restraint, no one was throwing a can of opened preserved teases at him, for once.  
"Ohoho, so this is what you're hiding, Asuka-chan~...!" the blonde snickered as she watched, entertained by the peculiar sight she had come to witness. With a grin foxy and full of mischievous intent, she hopped away from the undergrowth; and oh, the expanses that gossip could go, surely it strikes as an arcane event to most!

It might come as a dreadful shock to most, but the prospects of precautions taken to conceal Keima's own presence were all false. He had not gone through the process of turning himself and their location invisible with the hagoroma- skills with this great piece of utility was sadly left back at Asakusa in the form of Haqua- and with this worrying handicap, the gamer had come to find the most solitary clearing in the whole forest to 'train' her. But that did not stop Katsuragi's predatory instincts; surely when it comes to bouncy appeals, and in a matter of a day, after some inquiry and the sudden coincidence of meeting Asuka, hands full of mushrooms, in the forest- Keima had no power of prediction at this point- she found their secluded haven and had been spying on them for quite some time. Of course, her nosiness did not prevent her from speaking to the others regarding this, and, as she left the two to a fishy lunch, she waited for night. And during that time, she gathered those that were present, excluding Asuka, whom had begun to sleep, and began her queer- naturally for her- group talk.

* * *

"Hey, I've got something to tell you all! I know you'll love to hear this!" Katsuragi exclaimed with bursting enthusiasm; although her voice was subdued in the night air, but to those close to her, it seemed like the Katsuragi every one knew, full of energy.

"What is it, anyway, Katsuragi? We need sleep for tomorrow, you know?" Ikaruga's groaning annoyance seemed unnoticed by her friend, whom she had noted the heightened eagerness to speak. Surely her friend's privacy and beauty-sleep was not on her sane mind.

"Katsuragi-chan..." Hibari yawned, "I'm very sleepy. Can we do this tomorrow?"

Her child-like disposition, though seemingly exclusively affecting her exterior behavior, had not excluded her inner patterns, and so her overall stamina had not been a spectacle for Shinobis her age. She was a worrisome sight for the others, but Kiriya had presumably seen much potential in her, and had, up till now, trained her patiently and in a pace like that of a speeding tortoise; maybe he believed in the philosophy of the tortoise and the hare?

"Oh come on, we should all be nocturnal Shinobis by now! Humph!" she whined, quite upset at their inappropriate use of time and their unnatural conveyance of manners. Quickly dismissing the worn state the other two were in, she continued with little scorn at their dissatisfaction of the upcoming topic, "Asuka's been training with someone we all don't know! I think it's this Keima she's been talking about!"

"What?" the katana-wielding leader of their group perked up with interest. Hibari only gasped at the matter.

"I saw him yesterday! He even came back to train her today, and they were all close and stuff! I smell love in the air~!"

"What does he look like?" Hibari asked with restrained curiosity; lest she wake up the one that would disrupt this now shocking discussion.

"He looks our age, actually, with glass and all, but from what I see, Asuka-chan's taking orders from him, so he must be strong! Yesterday, they were picking mushrooms for no reason. Today they're catching fish!"

"Hmm..." Ikaruga contemplated the statements, placing a hand on her chin; she looked considerable wiser with that pose, but she was not conveying any image, it was just instinct that turned the gears of her hand to her face. "That does sound strange. But if you want us to believe you, we're following you tomorrow."

With this, Katsuragi gave a wide grin of pleasure: at the least, the skeptical nature of humans were invoked, and maybe her ulterior motive will finally be finished.

* * *

**By now, my writing skills had slowly deteriorated. This wasn't a good chapter, to me. But I hope you enjoy, and review pl0x.**


	19. Chapter 19

"Someone's been here."

Asuka, in a state of worrisome unease, murmured to the boy who stood below the trees, eyes veered away from the sight he found too vulgar for skirt-wearing girls. Of course, he was rid of credulous stupidity, so he only questioned in a murmured tone in reply:

"Are you sure? How do you know?" Hopping down and landing with a soft cracking of the grass, she opened the palm of her hand, and Keima raised an eyebrow at the actions. Something of a shining glint was on her hand, and on further inspection by his two detail-craving eyes, it was a button, from one of Hanzo Academy's issued white shirts; but Keima's own wear had all its buttons on and Asuka had been wearing one below her yellow sweater.

"All my buttons are on my shirt, so this is someone else's." Calmly letting her presumed superior take the button off her hands, she then asked, "Are we going to move training areas?" in a voice that advertised dubiety in the soul.

"Maybe, but first of all, take off your outer clothes, I want to clarify that what you said is true."

He only met silence as a reply.

"EEEEEEHHHH?!" Asuka exclaimed in a voice of high pitched vocalizing, before taking a step back with flustered feet and a rosy face. "N-NO...!" she placed both her arms on her chest, digging into the two mounds in an effort to convey disobedience to the command issued to her, "I-I'm not stripping for you! Pervert!"

The sudden labeling had invigorated Keima's anger, and he yelled back, "I'm just telling you to take off your sweater!"

After some time of clearing up miscommunication, Keima had brought himself to declare that the training area was to be moved to another secluded clearing of the forest, and with judicious intentions, Asuka had told him of an apt area that only she knew of, something he saw fitting to follow. Where it was, he did not know, but he was not one to fumble with maps, and within that span of an hour, the two agreed to move and continue their training there.

"Asuka," Keima raised his head up to look at the tree canopy as he shifted his feet back to the clearing.

"Hmm?" she turned shyly, still preserving a coy atmosphere between her and her trainer.

"Once you finish my training, what will you do?" This question as something that perplexed Keima himself, and, with a face that gave a little more calmness to the situation, he waited scrupulously for her answer.

"Eh, umm... Well, I would try and take a mission and see if I can finish it. L-let it break my failing s-spree, haha..."

Then, with no warning, Keima began to laugh in the loudest, most obnoxious manner; the suddenness of it all had made Asuka flinch with shock at the loud eccentricity of the event. "You surprise me, Asuka. You haven't learn much, have you?"

"Eh, what were your lessons even about?"

"Say your future plans with confidence, Asuka-chan..."

She blushed at the honorific.

"And maybe, just maybe, you might rise to the top."

At first, the inspiring thoughts flowed in like a tsunami wave, but after just seconds of hearing that, the determination of before returned into her like a blessing, and she gave a smile of reassurance, eyes filled with blazing confidence, before saying, "Yes, I will break my failing spree!" She then offered her hand to him, grinning her happiest, "Thank you, Keima. You were the best."

"Yes, yes I am." Forgetting the context of those words, he held her hands, and shook them, in a similar fashion to those suit-wearing businessmen once they completed their deals.

But at that time, the realization had not hit him. Truthfully, if he had taken Haqua's words to heart, he could have said all this was completed, and he would have closed the books. But the fundamental things he had done had seemingly backfired him a lot harder than he would ever believe. Asuka had lacked confidence due to the Spirit's influence, and she had found it again, thanks to Keima's own influence towering that of the Runaway Spirit's. But that should have been the end. The heart's crevice should have been filled with the hopes she had, but it had not. Something else was stopping her. Another form of confidence so powerful but in such short supply, that none who had the smartness would say, 'it does exist'. Keima had brought his plan a step too far, and it had now drowned in the pond in which he was placing his stepping stones on.

The affection he had was veered for different reasons; the regards to Haqua's statement completely ignored, and this reason had arisen from the depths of Asuka's heart. She once wanted confidence, but now she craved the confidence to tell Keima one special thing before he truly left her life forever. And even though the route Keima had been in was his own 'fastest' way, Haqua had brought up the true fastest path to completing the capture and putting himself into the Shinobi class. But for now, those thoughts were not in Keima's mind. I swear, the taking back of her former confidence as the final step to driving out the Spirit will never come to him as even a remote possibility. And even if Haqua should tell him of his mistake, he would dismiss it. He was no therapist, he was the God of both games and love, and his judgement was rarely ever wrong. But was it wrong that he was blind of the potentials?

And as he came home to be greeted by Haqua, all he could mutter to her as he entered his dwelling was:

"That's weird, why can I see the ending now?"

* * *

Another day passed by like a falling leaf, and although the many statements were of curious nature and were worth Time's wavering attention, the absence of the two suspects had agitated Ikaruga's senses. And the cramped space she had to squeeze her body in had not helped quell to the precious time she wasted; Hibari and Katsuragi were both taking most of the space of the branch, and all she had was a small window between the two.

"So..." teeth clenched to their tightest, Ikaruga growled at the blonde, who shuddered from the pierce of her gaze behind her back, "Where is this man you spoke of? And Asuka?"

"Err... W-well, they were here since yesterday..." Katsuragi never turned around to meet the glare, instead focusing on the surrounding in front of them. To her fortunate luck, there was no punishment other than a light scolding; Ikaruga was not find of hitting her friends, more so the one who had been in school with her for the whole time- the others came only a year or two later, with Hibari being a prominent example. She only came two years after the two met, along with another.

"I wanna go back," complained the pink-haired girl.

"Yes, let us disperse..." said Ikaruga from behind the two, moving her stance to one for farther leaping distance. She seemed ready to move through the trees back to her training area if personal liking, but as she turned her back away to disappear into the light forest growth, she was blocked by what could be described as a barrage of hard begging, all from the buxom blonde's mouth. And the sudden appearance of two hands clasping and fondling her breast had made her halt her movement.

"Ikaruga, I'm not lying!" spoke Katsuragi in a tone of desperate, but sly manner, like that of a trickster child; and the position of her hands were culpable for the strength of her efforts: because of the trap-like position the two useful limbs were in, the apprehended found herself unable to move to the stimuli.

"K-Katsuragi, let go-!"

"Hey, I'm gonna prove to you those guys were here, whatever it takes!"

The fervor she held was of no conciliatory effect; Ikaruga was still infuriated with the time wasted through waiting in the trees, now flustered by this frontal assault she had personally deemed to be too much an effort, even from the likes of Katsuragi. And there was no fear that could stop the blonde from fondling her breast. A tomboyish approach akin to only her in the class, where all are attentive, capacious of mind, eager in the field, and strong in heart and body; a very controversial sight, perhaps, to the common people of the world- it felt all too like an ecchi manga, where the events know no bounds to it's preposterous contexts and its overwhelmingly sexual routine when it came to women and men. But every sort of manga has a story it has to follow with its utmost loyalty; had it meant that there was an undefined line of destiny here, with all these strange occurrences happening around them, furthermore those that were hidden from their keen sight?

Sober as she may be, the scantily dressed Katsuragi- her shirt had lost a button yesterday when the thread snapped due to pressure- failed to listen to her commands as she continued to convince her leader to stay. But as she continued this act of 'convincing', the abrupt rustling, one that tore the blonde's attention away from Ikaruga's body, from the bush below resonated through their ears. Unexplainable to the three that peered down, Asuka had appeared, and walked below the group hidden above, skipping, with a certain reason requisite only to her, down to the stream. And all that the three could do to elicit a reaction to this was stare amazed by her entrance, one that gave much opportunity to Katsuragi, seeing how the elusive chance of changing one's mind with a swift blow came only once in a long while.

"See, SEE! Asuka does come here!" she exclaimed in soft excitement, waiting for the marveling face of amazement the two would give out.

Hibari gasped as she heard her statement, surprised at the accuracy she provided. "You're right, Katsuragi-chan!" She said, unfamiliar to the grin the blonde gave as she heard a triumphant praise. But had she omit something?

"Where is 'Keima', then?" Ikaruga raised her brows, turning her head to her with a quizzical set of expressions only to be met with a face of nervous secrecy. True, this boy, whom none thought existed, was absent like darkness around the Shinobi below, which they found perplexing, considering the sudden increase in accuracy from Katsuragi's claims.

"Should we get closer to Asuka-chan?" Hibari asked, eyes still set on the Shinobi in question. By now, she had begun a queer routine of searching around the shore, for what the group did not know. At this point, the act of being Columbus in the presence of curiosity was no crime, and with this thought, the two agreed to the risky suggestion and begun to sneak closer through the silent shadows.

The sighing from Asuka entered their ears as they approached her from the tree line. "What was he thinking," she began to grumble in a seriousness that seemed to elude her true feelings, "Sending me out to look for frogs? All because he found out I wasn't comfortable with them. I mean, I told him I wasn't scared of them, but he still told me to come back and look around. To think of it, maybe Katsuragi didn't come here with the others, or maybe they left?" She then turned around, only to see trees; unknown to her, the three had hid behind one when she turned, and as she looked away, they began their prowl again. "W-well, he's doing it for my good. Maybe I'll send amessage to the Shinobi school in Nara; but which one?" She then paused, movement included, and silence befell her like a blanket.

"Keima..." she blushed a hot red, before vigorously shaking her head, discarding the thoughts deep in her mind. "N-no, he's only here until I finish my training. But it's strange that Sensei gave us permission to do all our training independently for so long. I wonder what he's doing...? Maybe he knows Keima's here and he's giving me time to be trained! But, why doesn't he allow himself to be known to everyone else? I mean, I'm surprised that he's actually hiding himself as a student back at school..."  
"Oh, really?" Katsuragi muttered to reassure herself, before continuing this eavesdropping.

"Ah... I don't want him to leave. He's so... eccentric, and he's quite... cute." At this, she became red with embarrassment, hands covering her face to obscure the intense color from all eyes around. On the other hand, Ikaruga widened her eyes in surprise, flushing a tint of red at what confidential information she had heard, while Katsuragi tried holding back the enormous giggle she had stuck in her throat. Hibari only continued watching, more amazed by the words she heard. And at the end of this speech, Asuka, in a fit of grand isolationistic reflexes, screamed, "I-I like him, but I just can't say it!"

With those words entering their ears, the three, surprisingly, blushed; Katsuragi was unable to even utter a word. It had been the blonde's first time that she heard Asuka open her heart to another person, more surprising one of opposite genders. It had been so compelling to their minds- capacious as they were- that all they were able to do, in their sane, legal rights, was to be silent, and, as Ikaruga signaled seconds later, to leave her to her task, with widened eyes and minute pupils. During this journey to a safe place for discussions, the black-haired leader of the group began to notice a strange disturbance in front of her. A high-pitch beat, unrivaled by all that could replicate it, that came from one's closed lips.

Katsuragi giggled in mischief between her joyous prance, many times malicious than it has ever been.


	20. Chapter 20

To address the situation Keima found himself in was no task worth the comprehension of the lower-class. For him to dash and hide behind a boulder with heart nearly regurgitating through the throat was already surprising for a mainly calm, collected boy, especially when he had already set this heart on the task he had put himself into. And now, with human curiosity, you might be asking, 'What in the whole of Japan is going on?'. First, he had his guard- the barrier which, under all stress and pressure kept all from mistakes- lowered to the dirt floor, and his mind had believed utmost that all had been tranquil once he sent Asuka away. But now, there was a grave problem amiss. His original plan had faltered ever so slightly, but that enough had chipped away the foundation till it had become brittle, ready to crack and fall into the deep abyss it had stared upon.

Out of all the possible outcomes, he had forgotten one essential flaw. The possible outcome leading to their infiltration of his hidden zone of exclusion: Katsuragi, Ikaruga and Hibari's.

W-why, he thought to himself, Why are they here?!

It would have been no surprise to some that the three had followed the direction Asuka took when she journeyed to the stream- training had molded their intuition to new levels. And with time and mild persuasion from the playful fox-of-a-tomboy, they found a disturbed clearing, one they believed to have become a new meeting area for their friend and the mystery known as 'Keima'. For the time being, surveying the clearing had been their top priority; Keima still was away from sights, his presence hidden behind the worn mineral which he sat still on before they had arrived with no injury. Unaware that he had gone and hid, the three gave the unanimous agreement to search for the fellow; he might not be here, but it was worth investigation to see if he had passed here, or if he even existed as flesh and bones. To whom do not have effort to even uncover the unknown? What buccaneer had not tried shoveling entire islands to find 'X marks the spot'? What man had not enquired about their house, under suspicion of strange paranormality? And what human had not tried to find the cause of the high pitched noise from behind the boulder?

I FORGOT TO CLOSE MY PFP! Out of spiteful game-craving syndromes, he had brought his PFP, unaware that it would be a great mistake, a setback to him.

"What's that?" Ikaruga began to notice the unfamiliar BGM that emitted with a soft tone through the cool air, and slowly made her way to the undefined source of the noise.  
"You mean the sound, right?" Katsuragi asked, turning her head to the boulder in the clearing.

"It's so cute!" Hibari gave a jumping squeal of surprise, skipping to the boulder at faster speed.

But it had not been what they all had expected. Instead of a boy named Keima; hiding in unsightly fetal manner, behind the large object, it had just been a lone PFP, all systems still working in perfect condition, but absent of player intuitions and goals. Isolated it seemed to be, that the shy Hibari braved consequences by picking it up for further observance.

"It's just a PFP. Oh, it's the new 'Shadowed Promenade' ninja galge! Why is it doing here?"

As the three begun to discuss the origins of this dubious device and how it came to be on the grass, Keima peeked from behind the dense foliage, observing their movement with calculative accuracy, straining his brain to find a way to escape the strange ordeal.

It had been known to Haqua that today would be the keystone of the end of the capture, and that it would signal the events that were paved to occur in the coming week, seeing how today had been a Saturday, one passing of the sun before the end of school and training. A simple confession from the sheepish Asuka would end all arguments with one stroke of the pen on the paper, but there would be complications when more than one sword revolts against the pen. First of all, he had sent Asuka away not to conquer her fears, but to invoke a sense of lone, vocal expression that he timed the other three would find themselves listening. They would then leave with the newfound information, and later convince Asuka, who would find herself too disoriented, to confess her feelings to him and then kiss him, therefore ending the whole ordeal. But there had been a misconception concerning the sharpness of these predators. He had forgotten the chance that they would arrive here, therefore cornering him and destroying his plans. He needed to find a quiet way out of all this, quickly lest they find him hiding behind the tree in deep coyness.

Taking a step, he found himself noisily snapping a branch, alerting them of his presence. Not wishing to turn back, he ran, hagoroma on hand.

The three, shocked by the crack from behind the greenery, all gave their unanimous decision to chase after the mysterious being. True, it could be a total waste of their precious time; but it could all be worth the time if it had been Keima. And so, they traversed the woods, jumping from tree to tree, feet tapping the ground with light grace but speeding acceleration. There was no time to speak any beliefs or personal necessities at this point; all that was left was to find the one whom trained their friend all this time in secrecy, owned the PFP and hightailed away from them with no thought. Before long, the three caught up with the man, and they, on trained cue, all hopped to the ground below, before landing on the soft ground. But then the curiosity set in. The boy was nowhere in sight. He had gone, with no trace.

"Ah, the footprints stop here!" Hibari cried after she turned her head around, taking much notice of the distinct print on the ground.

"Argh, where did he go!?" Katsuragi gave her response in a display of growls, questioning the use of stamina for someone whom seemed impossible to capture, "I wanna meet him!"

"He shouldn't be far..." said Ikaruga- the attempt to calm the disappointing storm was all she could find herself be able to do. "The footprints do tell us that he could have leaped away. Maybe if we look around the trees, we could find him."

Katsuragi gave a nod in reply, before jumping away into the low canopy. The two then did the same.

With the three away, silence fell in like torrential rain. All there was now was the sound of the winter breeze scraping the landscape, and the grass brushing one another in friendly splendor. But at the height of tranquility, the ground began to fold, move, and rise to its feet. Keima had quickly hid himself with the hagoroma as he laid himself on the floor, and it had been a thrilling success; although now Haqua's would be tempted to rather wash her hagoroma than dish out her nagging. Cracking his back into place, he began to sneak away, heart pumping wildly. Whatever gibberish he spoke were meaningless, only to express the shock and disbelief he held for being undetected while the blonde stood with full weight on him.

"Let's hope..." he muttered under his pained breath, "My PFP's still okay..."

* * *

He was, how should I say, never fond of reviewing simple papers- reports and the likes. They never varied like the nature in which surrounded him most of the time he came to these mountains with his students. But there was one thing that had caught his attention. A simple security report that detailed a daily intruder, one whom had entered with little care for permission for some time.

Keima Katsuragi.

The name levitated around his mind, and he could only be adamant about his thoughts. He had found his way here, entered, and had, he believed, met with Asuka. True, her absence from areas where he would observe training progress with ease was a notable difference in her behavior, much more the sudden shine that had come back into her in these span of days. Still, it would not be wrong if one accused him that he had let his guard down around the boy, whom he heard much miracles from Nikaido. He had believed that the spirit had naturally left her after all the days of free training he had issued his class. But that seemed different in his case. True, he was somewhat joyed by Asuka's improvement in mood, but there was just one old grudge he was unwilling to leave; a grudge for devils, one he had kept for some time. There was no outside reason for it, just a natural sort that had developed in most Shinobi after years of listening- and spouting- Devil blasphemies, taunts, lies and the likes. Breathing till he was sound in mind, he began to think, of a plan he could use to stop Keima's tracks. He was nowhere willing to give him the success. But truly, there seemed to be no ulterior reason for all these intentions. Grudge was most he could say, and all he could do. But of course, there was something else he had in mind. Someone's request, a mission given to him: to make Keima's mission near impossible.

* * *

"Keima," Haqua groaned with worry, arms moving in a wave as she mopped the ground into a shiny glint. "You sure you're gonna continue your route, seeing how they already tried looking for you?"

Keima had done all he could for the day while he kept the klutz of a Shinobi company, and for all the events occurring, it had become an anxious turmoil for the boy. It seemed that the train he had bought his ticket for had begun to change its tracks, to another station. Although it can be said that he could alight at this particular destination, the documentation he was to present- his ticket- would be less than satisfactory, and he would have to try again with another ticket to the station he once wished to descend on. By bold decision, he had omitted the choice of changing, much less modifying his route, instead staying on the tracks he had found himself on. True to words, the three whom came to suspect his existence was something he found to have been just a crumbling path. They were to have donned the roles of influential women, to change the heart of Asuka so that she could have the courage she truly needed to speak to him; convey the deep feelings she had for the boy, even after just mere days of meeting him and learning of his story, a simple lie that went further than what the fuel it was provided ever could. But he was weary of his decisions. The many loopholes that could arise problems, or enlightening rapture were not overlooked by the least.

For what outcome each of these holes had, he was silent of it. His original route still had its pieces. The train could still turn and move back to the changing tracks, before moving to where it had been destined to move to all this time. But now chance, the strange hand of chance, was the driver. He was the mere passenger; or worse, the coal shoveler.

"If I'm right, everything should still be okay. The three will make her confess to me , and then it'll be all over. I don't know about Kiriya, though... He could be the end of this capture, or salvation, for all I know." As he said this, he played his PFP with little regards of the world around him, and when he ended his speech, he began to dwell in a silent state of mind, although the contemplation of this worrying development had not left him.

Haqua only sighed, and continued her task of completing the everyday chores of the house. She had become more of a house maid than a devil, so to speak; but she showed little irritation for that fact. Her influence in the capture were more naturally-limited than forced. She was unable to leave Asakusa, much less follo Keima through to the mountain forest where the girls trained, an area a few miles away from Tokyo itself. But as she took her mind from the subject that seemed to affect her little, from the door resonated a knock, one she found to prompt her manners to let the mystery man or woman in, rather than leave him or her waiting with an impatient gaze on the door.  
"Come in, come-" she paused rather reluctantly when she came face-to-face with the man the Game God had spoke of minutes before.

"Hmm, Haqua, I presume?" Kiriya spoke, his tone an emotion she found hard to understand. Immediately making way to one she was commanded to see as a higher, Haqua stared bewildered as he walked with grave steps to Keima. And strangely, he had begun to smile- a grin, she swore.

"Kiriya?" Keima spoke, surprised of his presence.

"Yes, Katsuragi, how was your day? I just came to tell you a few things." Then, as if by a movie's cue, he gave a light grin. Not one that stated the evils within him- for he had none- but one of friendliness, in the most suspicious way possible for any man like him.

* * *

**Hello, fans of my story. I'm really thankful of all the reviews you guys have given me, and I hope this story doesn't leave a bad taste in the end (cos' I screwed up after a while of writing the ending). Please review if you like it.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Okay, I won't lie if I told you the first few parts of this chapter seemed completely stupid to me. I dislocated myself from the TWGOK and SK mythos and logic, and overestimated Keima's knowledge on games by a long shot. If this chapter gets you thinking the same thought as I did, then don't refrain yourself from criticizing it in a review. I know my mistake, and I hope I don't screw up again. Other than that, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, sorry for not updating for so long. Got really busy with school work. :P**

* * *

Walking down the short hallway, passing all of the bedroom doors, Asuka hummed a cheerful note into the air as she proceeded to her room, body steamed from her recent shower and clothed sufficiently in her merry sleepwear. Today had been quite a unique day for her taste; the sight of Keima sweating- more surprising that of exhaustion- when she returned with a natural stash of frogs was something she saw with a flinch of surprise. He never trained when she left for his tasks, so why had he looked like he had survived running through a battlefield? She could have reserved her curiosity for the next week, where she saw the potential to meeting him once more for any training her secret teacher thought fit to give. Although it had still been a novelty that Kiriya had allotted so much time for them to train freely in the mountainous terrain, the curiosity required to delve further than simple speculation as that from her training this morning was something she lacked at the moment, and on one note, any questions regarding Keima himself were swept to a corner as an emotion of a higher power entered her opinions.

"Hmm?" she looked one direction, and noticed the house phone sitting on a tall stool-like table, with a telephone book sitting conveniently next to it, both awaiting coordination by all whom could use them. It had been her first time focusing on the marvel of modern-day technology; the slick white of its design perched comfortably on the charger as if it were sitting on a couch. And the phone book seemed, to most, as an extraordinary specimen of its kind. All of the phone numbers were altered to only call those whom had an affiliation with the Shinobi group. But that feature had caught her attention, for it also meant that communication with the Shinobis of Nara was possible.

Yes, there were actual Shinobi active in Nara.

"Maybe...!" turning her head to both sides to observe the circumstances of the setting, she took up the phone to her ear, and began to flip through the yellow book.  
It was not long before she found the predetermined number to contact the establishment; one which if she remembered correctly to be somewhat sprawling with activity.  
"Hello," she greeted with her signature brightness, "Is this the Nara Shinobi establishment?"

There was some chatter on the other, far-away side.

"I'm Asuka, Hanzo's granddaughter... Uh, I'm here to thank you of some things. Thanks for sending Keima to train me and all, I really appreciate it."

But the reply from the other side made her smile disappear ever so gradually.

"Huh? You never sent anyone? Wait, you're just trying to hide his identity, like he told me to, right? Don't worry, training's fine, and I think I'm doing better. Thanks for helping me. Bye-!"

She then placed the phone down, and slowly walked away, unaware of what she had heard.

Except she wasn't.

During the last parts of her talk, she had replied faster than the man behind the phone could- but it had not been her desire to do that. Instead, a reflex had spoke for her. A reflex that had tried covering the conspiracies that she herself might find uncovering against her will. For doubts had began to seep into her once more.

Who is Keima?

The question begged like a hungry dog, salivating a stench nasty enough that it could not be left unattended by its owner. But it seemed better for her to leave it as it had been. Her heart continued denying whatever she thought to be false, and degrading of one individual's image: this time being Keima's. Human instinct, that was all.

As she entered her room with the encumbering load in her mind, she noticed the peculiar paper crane on the desk she would have used to finish any school homework. At first, she speculated that she had gone senile during one lifeless night and had, with no memory, dexterously crafted a piece of origami in an attempt to amuse her dulled senses. But that did not stop her from finding some interest in it, in the form of ink inscriptions addressing her name; and she rarely got bored over reading scrolls and potentially creating her own out of innate imagination. And so, she gave her time to unfold the paper piece, and found more than she would have expected from materials in such a small minuscule art.

"Kiriya-Sensei wants me to do... What?"

* * *

"You... WHAT?!" Keima, body rose from his seat with a staggering finesse, cried at the undaunted man whom had seated himself in front of his eyes. With all muscles straining, the boy swore his greatest desire now was to have his hands on the elderly's obnoxious neck; although he found murder something not worth any mention at this point, nor was there any need to carry it out here and now. The ninja Sensei had the chance to completely twist and turn his skeleton inside-out, if he mentioned the risk.  
"Keima, I am confident that your training has strengthened Asuka's resolve, so," he shifted himself on the couch, and arched himself forward so as to look at the boy's expressions in closer detail, "I have sent her on a mission she will surely fail in."

"Wait, she accepted? Gah...! What if she-!"

"Don't panic, I have sent Ikaruga to save her if she cannot escape."

"Why... Why are you doing this?" Keima shook in his tone, hands shaking even in their balled state. Teeth clashed in his mouth as his eyes thinned till they were glares. "I nearly finished this capture, you know!? I thought you cared about your students!"

"I do!" Kiriya's voice roared, "But to give the glory to a devil, much more a devil buddy?! I cannot let that happen-!"

In that heightened moment of tension, there was a ring from his pants pocket; and the two went silent. Reaching into his right pocket with a face awaiting some form of revelation, he placed his phone on his ears, and listened patiently. Keima only stared, his well-endowed manners subjugating his brain and forcing him into silence. He wondered, though, where was Haqua in this dire, heart-wrenching moment.

"Now what will you do, 'God of Captures'?" Kiriya's voice of subtle mocking resonated in his mind as he grieved at the loss of time.

Or was it?

The sudden question appeared in a puff of magical smoke in his mind, and he froze. Was it? he asked, shaking with sweat, B-but there's... And then, salvation. The Ascension to the light in the sky all Demi-Gods experience when they receive word from the throne in the white clouds. To truly sit on the throne of the God of Games: that was what he had presumed all this time. But time corrodes the marble seat his holy rump found comfort on, and in the span of one month of calmness, he fell off back on to soil. Yes, he was still intellectual from past experience, but there were some things he himself found lost in thought with. Certain roads blocked, many trap-holes in paths. He truly believed he planned all the pavements, laid every stone on where it should have been placed on; because as he flew in the skies once again, he watched the horizon, and found a new path: a path that truly ended where it began.

"I see it..."

Kiriya watched as the boy, neck bent and face turned to the ground, laughed with a ominous, but sinister snicker. Hands placing themselves beside his seated body, they became like pistons pushing Keima back on to his feet, and splendid as it seemed- Kiriya watched, paralyzed with the sudden change- he was not done with the showy movement. Instead of any form of assault to the Shinobi, he instead pulled out his PFP, earning himself a large reward known as a dumbstruck stare.

"The ending, Kiriya," Keima finally placed his attention to the man, whom flinched slightly as his glare met his line of sight, "Do you know why I see it, even though you seem to have me in a cage now?"

"No, I do not..." Kiriya's eyes seemed to lighten slightly as he watched the boy play his beloved gadget; surprised by the dexterous speed his hands pushed the buttons, and the fact that the boy paid no attention to the game itself was a fascinating feat.

"You, Kiriya, have made a new path of conquest for me."

Kiriya only stayed silent, although his face returned to its rough scowl once he heard this supposed opportunity he had unintentionally given to him.

"My own route was scheduled to be finished next week, when the other Shinobi convinced Asuka to confess to me. But you, you have opened my eyes. There is one more route I have never noticed..."

"You," Kiriya spoke, "Did you plan all this?"

"Nah, this was all a coincidental thing, a chance that came by carrying with it the best results. Because instead of waiting for a few more days, the capture will finish today. It WILL- key word there."

"And... how would it?" His eyes seemed to crave for inquiry. His mouth stiffened slightly as he spoke, body contemplating the unease of his situation.

"Well..." there was a pleasant piece of solemn, but upbeat and composed music resonating from his PFP as he spoke. Kiriya noticed the boy's interest to the window close to them; it was open in quite a large margin that one should have the ability to dive between them to the outside. But at this point, he had not seen any suspicion on this interest, and his body continued to sit without any imposing movement. "I think it has something to do with THIS PFP!"

In that instance of breath, Keima- hesitant in motion- threw his beloved hand-held at the teacher's wiseacre face. Reflexes took autocracy of Kiriya's body, and he shot out his sleeve-concealed kunai- a behavior which saved countless Shiobi numerous times- and swung it at the toy, slicing it in half. But at those crucial seconds, Keima was gone; fled through the open window prior mentioned with a leap that seemed to make him fly through the low-altitude skies, only to come crashing down seconds after ascension. But there was no time to groan and ache. He stood up from the dirt of his front yard, and, teeth gritting and eyes flaring, he ran, too determined to finish this all and relieve Asuka of the burden she was to shoulder. For Gods are saviors, and he was here, body free from mental restrictions, to uphold that title.  
"KEIMA!"  
A woman's hasty voice called to him from the higher skies, and he turned his eyes up to find a familiar devil flying with scythe in hand. She seemed the least confused of the situation, and instead, had sharp eyes that connoted no misunderstandings.

"HAQUA, TAKE ME UP!" With utmost trust to her supposed understanding, he held his hands up into the air, palm open wide to receive his hooks to the sky. In an instant, she dived lower to the ground, and plucked the boy off the ground.

"Why are you so heavy!" she screamed when she placed him on her shoulder, aerial maneuverability jumpy from the new addition of mass. By now, she had soared lower than her original height, and, with the lowering sun behind her, accelerated through the rooftops, as if sensing a certain danger closing their distance on them.

"Drop the scythe, then!" he retaliated, stress in new levels. Hearing no reply, he turned away, and was subsequently blinded by the glaring orange ball. As he squinted his two crossed eyes in efforts to quell the irritation, relief came in the form of a blockade to the light, shadowing his face from the brusque light. But then, where did this structure come from? And then, out of nowhere, another one jumped up and appeared in his view.

Wait, another?

"Haqua, MOVE!"

The Shinobi were here. And the aura radiating off their skins seemed dark and destructive in nature. They seemed ready to kill their prey rather than eat them.  
Narrowly escaping a mortal cut from Ikaruga's leaping swing, Keima patted the devil's back, repeating 'faster' every second of breath he had and signaling her to quicken her movement. She immediately complied, although right before being rudely tugged by the hair to be coerced clear of Katsuragi's kick.

"If Ikaruga's here, then that means Asuka's gone to hiding already!" Keima yelled into her ears.

"H-hey, don't scream so loud! And 'hiding'?"

"Use your hagoroma, then! You tagged her before!"

"Oh, yeah! Let me-" a sudden swift turn spared them from the killer's metal. She was too stunned to speak afterwards.

"I don't care! If I don't get to her in time, then all Old Hell's breaking loose!"

In much suddenness, Ikaruga dashed and leaped in front of the two, blade ready to be unsheathed from its protection. Eyes narrowing with anger contributed by friendly disputes- the prediction that she had a slight quarrel with the other Shinobi was unanswered as of the moment- she slashed downward, fortunately only inches before Keima's face was just two sliced fruits stippling the ground with red strawberry juice. Instead, it cut the bridge of his glasses: the whole thing itself thrusting forward from the abruptly sudden stop, and Haqua, out of sheer shock at his 'wound', lost grip. And all that was left for him was to plummet to the ground in free-fall form, screaming his lungs out. But in a sudden miraculous tick of the clock, he landed on something soft. Something that seemed much more bouncy than cotton pillows, or spring beds; two bedding equipment that spouted comfort in their advertisements- although bragging their personal levels of softness seemed unnecessary to Keima himself. But how, in the middle of this calm, lonesome neighborhood did this pillow appear?

"Tch," Katsuragi's voice sarcastically clicked her tongue, "Even when boys are dying, they just can't get away from ecchi things~"

The closeness of her foxy voice got Keima staggering to his two feet; still scarred by the fact that the ground, their closest friend, could have killed their central body. But in that one instance that Keima glanced at her, he noticed that her white school shirt was unbuttoned, and that her breast parted with a gap the size of his head.  
"GUH!" Keima cringed all over at the facts, his body unable to contain the excited embarrassment bestowed upon him. "W-why is your shirt unbuttoned?! You indecent woman! Why would anyone try to woo you!? I wish I was really blind!"

"What does that even mean..." she bluntly replied as she moved from her position to a crouch. It was but a minute too late before he could notice the unorthodox way she crouched, before his feet flew off the ground with a sweeping kick. "Humph," she grunted as the sound of a body collided with the stone road. Her resolution and tone was now more solid than her usual playfulness, "Kiriya-Sensei told us to capture you for toying with Asuka. Bein' with the devils? Wow, you really stooped low! It's first-grade education for every Shinobi to hate devils!"

Pushing himself away from her, Keima hastily stood up again, staggering from the aching pain his body had when it tackled the ground. His hair was now a spectacular mess from its once-tidy image; the twines of hair spouting from the head seemed like that of closed rose bushes. His glass-less face had a bruise of dust below the cheek, which seemed a contrast between his maintained skin; it was something he would have found problematic if he were to proceed and meet Asuka, for it showed that there had been conflict, and that would raise inquiry.

During this period of facing Katsuragi once more- he scoffed by the fact that he was facing his surname- his mind jolted a revolutionary thought, and he brightened in expression. True, there was no smile on his face, but he was more surprised by this revelation than to even note her existence.  
"Hey, Keima- if that's even your name- look at me! I'll pummel you, then your devil!"

By this time, Haqua was, as if dancing through the air, in a struggle with blocking all of Ikaruga's agility-based style; although her scythe's lengthy handle helped repel her slashes, the speed slowly turned the blade into a Gaussian phantasm of its former self. Noting her situation, Keima again faced the blonde, with a new set of determination in mind.

"Everything..." he muttered loud enough for her to hear him, gaining a 'huh?' from the other side, "It fits together."

"Hey," Keima's head raised itself, and he noticed the different pose Katsuragi had crouched into, "Get ready for this!" With one powerful step, the blonde swung her leg to his face: all intentions she held were nowhere peaceful. And when a woman enters this state of ferocity as to administer an attack of such caliber, there was also the mindset they held that promised pain and hurt. Katsuragi did not want to miss.

"So... did Kiriya teach you this?"

She missed.

Not apt to the situation at all, Keima gave his own glare: one that seemed so full of brazen confidence. Katsuragi only froze for a few seconds, eyes wide, before she clenched both her teeth and swung her feet to where the boy's head was; but instead of a collision, he shocked her by ducking, missing the leg entirely. Instead, the ground her foot landed on cracked in the force, sending a single pebble of debris bouncing.

"How," Katsuragi growled, her grip on the leash holding her anger slowly slipping, "How do I keep missing you? Kiriya told me you weren't even a Shinobi?!"

The new information was no surprise to him, but the efficacy of his new God state found boast and revealing a necessary thing- you share me secrets, I share you mine. "'Weapon Party: A Ninja's Love Story'."

"W-what?"

"A ninja-based galge game. Everything here is the same as the last part of the game itself, other than the lack of clothing and the fight in the sky. Angame."

She was taken aback by all this information. How could this boy, who seemed so frail that he might collapse from her weakest kicks, predict the breakneck speeds of her attacks with just the basis of a game? That premise seemed impossible for a normal human such as him. On her mind, blatant was the taunt-like fashion of his words, and she gave little resistance when she attacked once more. Then again. And another. But all her kicks miraculously missed their intended target, and she cursed that fact with a click of her tongue.

"Please," Keima then spoke once more, "Don't get in my way, if you really don't want her to die."

The blonde only shook at his words. But the adamant nature of her heart hardened into that of steel, and she again screamed a battle cry as she got ready another combo of attacks.

"Up," Keima moved away from a rising kick. The next consecutive movements he mouthed were then all conveyed through her footwork, something she saw fit to continuing even though the chance of hitting were small. "Left, right, down, roundhouse left, up; you're fighting in Yui's style! How can you expect to even hit me when I've already done all her sequences?" As all these attacks unfolded, he continued his dodges, and slowly inched his way closer to her. In the very end of it all, he was so close, that his elbow nearly touched her face, while his body was bended into a posture of a likeliness to an expert Kung fu artist. Seizing the time he gained from tiring, and perhaps the paralysis from shocking, the blonde, he straightened himself, stretched his arm, placing a hand on her head, and, almost omnipotent in nature, commanded:

"Kneel before God."

And in that second that even tore the eyes of Haqua and Ikaruga off from each other, Katsuragi's legs gave way, and she fell on her knees, subjugated in his God-like magnificence. Time then stopped ticking in the clocks, and waves of the afternoon wind brushed the hairs of every individual nearby. Truly, a God of Games no matter the prescriptive background of the title. And now with the bestial woman down on her knees, there was no need to even consider the heathen's impact to the digressing atmosphere of the place: from the deadly dance of death to the exhorting sense of shock. Turning around, he began to walk away-

"Y-you," she then spoke, and a surprising sense came into him, "You really are a pervert, aren't you?"

"Why would I be? Is that not a sin?" he turned around, with eyes gleaming.

"Because you touched my legs every time I kicked." Raising her head, she revealed the grin on her face, sly and full of foxy, clandestine cajole. "Now how did you know all the sensitive parts of a girl's leg, hmm? And your touch: a bit sensual, right?"

"H-hey, t-that's all from fighting eroge, okay!? It's called pressure points-" Then, with an unexpected cutting of sentence, his bodily senses changed in a radical sense, and he froze on the spot. And like a sci-fi fantasy, a sentence conveyed from seemingly thin air materialized in his vision.

'You have been demoted from God to Demi-God'

"NOOO!" Cupping his face in mental scarring pain, his back and knee bended all the way until the back of his head hit the floor, turning his body structure to that of an arching bridge. Body swaying uncontrollably from side to side, he cried agonizingly, "THIS INSIDIOUS RESTRICTION TO MY POWERS! WHAT MATTER OF SATANIC POWER IS THIS!? I'M NOT A PERVERT!" And all he could hear was the mocking haughtiness of Katsuragi's laugh.

After some time, he found the soothe to open his sealed eyes, and he saw, through the gaps in his cupping hands, something that made him gasp in pleasant surprise. Immediately, his gymnastics kicked in, and he turned from his arching position to a sprint. Katsuragi and her friend above could only make an 'Eh?' before Keima was again scooped up from the ground by Haqua.

"Wait, Ikaruga!?" Katsuragi turned in disbelief to her friend on the roof, whom then turned round to her adversary. Instead of the devil she once fought with, all that was left was a foggy fake.

"No, it can't be-!" Ikaruga cursed, before she jumped in pursuit, leaving her friend behind.

"Ah, wait!" The blonde immediately moved her feet up. But in a sudden contrast of what her intentions were, they failed to even tense a muscle. They were in a temporary paralysis, and Katsuragi could only stare at her two thighs- parts of her leg she could only see if she carelessly looked down- in mild astonishment. "Wow, pressure points do exist. He's good," she spoke with respectful insight, under her breath, before giving her signature grin at the direction he and his devil friend departed to.

"So, where's she!?" Keima, mind settled down from the sickening rush of adrenaline, asked as he dangled from the air on the hagoroma. The intermittent noise known as Ikaruga's steps crawled close behind, paltry as the distance grew.

"U-um...!" Haqua fumbled, rather carelessly for her character, on the projection in front of her while at the same time taking much care not to collide with any imminent obstacles in front. "S-she's outside Asakusa!" she lowered her speed as she spoke, "What're we going to do?"

"Keep going! As fast as you can!"

She, sheerly shocked by the bold and brash suggestion, stopped, bound in hesitance. Turning her head to him, her two eyes met his gaze; they were so full of motivation that she immediately gulped, nervously, away her fears, loosened her muscles, and, praying no ill fortune befall the pair, speared through the walls of air, leaving the nearby Shinobi to stare at the incredible new distance put between her and him. Ikaruga only began to slow down, before stopping to listen to the emptiness of the neighborhood. Both she and Katsuragi had failed to stop the two, but even then, she believed no success would follow in their wake: for what supernatural power that can even influence chance would follow the devil and her fellows?

By the time the sun found itself allowing the moon to take its throne in the sky, Haqua was now in the heart of Tokyo, swiftly passing through the skyscrapers with elegance of a falcon in flight. But she was without company, other than an existing one dangling from her hagoroma. Behind the conspicuous pair of devil and buddy, the shadowed bodies of men traced their every movement, almost as if granted the power of flight by a higher being. There was not just a group, or a crowd; there was a hundred, all armed with a common mind: destroy a common grudge. But behind the wind's swooshing was Keima, screaming what most would hear as gibberish in the distance. But instead of their predictions, it had actually been plans expressed far more sophisticatedly than those who believed in the speech of Gibber to be spouting from his mouth.

"She's really close! Over there!" The devil then pointed at the building in the distance. A towering figurehead of Tokyo, so boastful in its height that even the lights below seemed tired to reach its summit.

"T-that's Cerulean Tower," Keima watched in awe as the spectacle slowly passed them, even with the astounding speed, "We actually got to Shibuya! How fast are you flying!?"

"Don't question that now! The ninjas are getting closer, I'll have to put you down on the edge!"

Hastily dodging their sights, Haqua placed Keima down on the building edge, high up from the Earth's ground, where the wind continued to blow their hairs in waves. By then, the lights of the building had come on, and the city below their knees bloomed like flowers in the spring; trees of crystal speckle, and grass with late-night dew. The bustle in the night was far from quelled as the many ants continued their advancements into shops, businesses and homes. Keima's two supports only shivered... withered with born fear at the heart stopping height, the difference between flying and the sense of the ground on his feet too contrasting for any man's health.  
"Keima, I'll come back and finish your plan, okay? I just need to get the Shinobi away from you, and Asuka."

"O-okay," he muttered with his expression confused, "J-just give me a few minutes. But please, be on TIME." His voice was dire even against the stutter. Haqua nodded with a frowning glance before she left to distract the army looking for them. Keima dared not predict the relentless assault's punishment if he was captured, and, with heart near his throat, made his way to where he had presumed, during his time in the realm of God-lihood, Asuka had resided.

"Kuh," he turned his head the opposite direction of the drop, "If I'm not dying from dropping, I'll die from a heart-attack." True, any sort of vertigo to a man with any ability to stand at that very moment is entitled to be struck down with fear. In such a time, Keima found the Shinobi's lack of fear a venerable achievement, and, if told to do so, he would clap at this achievement with little hesitation.

"How long do I have to do this?" he slowly inched another step. By now, he had turned through one corner, and his fatigue had grew with every breath, every beat of his heart since he landed. He found the prospect of finding Asuka such a relief by this time, that he believed that it would be impossible for him to keep his-

"K-Keima?"

Fatigue then released its grasp. He lost breath to hear the voice, and his head slowly turned, almost mechanically, to the source. And there she sat, cradling her two legs, with tears gleaming in the moonlight's glow. Hanzo Academy's Shinobi Class's best pupil.

"Asuka..." he called, eager to be replied to. Instead he nearly lost his footing when she pointed her blades to him.

Stance aggressive, she cried to him, "Stay away! I know you're not a Shinobi! You're just a buddy of a devil! I don't even want to say your name!"

"Whoa, Asuka," spoke Keima in a fluent tongue. Almost calm, he pushed the blade pointing to his chest aside, but she pointed it back, growling. "I am not here to hurt you. Stand down."

"Stand down? STAND DOWN!? You toyed with me, a-and I believed everything you did was to help me-"

"And they did," he cut her speech of thought in an abrupt two. "You smiled, am I right? Just today, you smiled when you brought back the five toads you collected, remember?"

She stayed silent for a second before shaking her head, swaying her hair from side to side in a violent disagreement between directions, then saying, "It's not that! All this time, were you really this dense?! I smiled because of you! Because you came and helped me when I needed you the most. You kept telling me to strive until I succeeded. And I thought that, with your help, I would stop failing in my missions, and that Sensei would at least congratulate me again. But I failed. I failed again..."

There was nil circumstances where Keima would find himself disclosing the lies Kiriya had spouted. If he did, then some things would find themselves... misplaced and disoriented in the continuums of space and time.

"I failed, not because I was indecisive. Not because I was scared I would fail. I failed," she lowered her blade, "Because you weren't there. You were my strength, for the whole week. But then Ikaruga told me that you worked for the devils. And I trusted you..." Her eyes began to tear, and one eye found it appropriate to stream the fluids down her reddened cheeks. "K-Keima, I-I-"

"You what? I thought I made you stronger in your heart! So what about a failure, what about me being with the devils? I am still a human; all humans are impatient, as they are courageous or scared! Now, tell me, Asuka."

"I-I don't..." she took a step back before pleading, "I can't...!"

"Don't say that! Tell me what you want to say!"

"P-please, I don't want you-!"

"SAY IT, ASUKA, GRANDDAUGHTER OF LEGENDARY SHINOBI HANZO!" His voice burst from his mouth, and his eyes, devoid from his signature glasses, stared down her tearful face. He then finished his speech, "SAY WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY!"

"I..." The sounds of the flooding streets breezed through their ears. With the moon climbing higher to its throne, Asuka murmured to him:

"I loved you..."

"And," he said almost brashly, "You're going to throw that emotion away? Just because I work with the devils? Is that it?"

"THAT'S BECAUSE YOU LIED TO ME! I TRUSTED YOUR EVERY WORD! NOW GO AWAY! IF YOU STAY, I'LL DO SEPPUKU!"

She then retracted away from the moon's gaze, before hiding in the shadows in her fetal position, weeping to the music of car honks and engines below. Keima only stood with balance, expression the same as ever before. Through some thought in mind, he approached her, and sat next to her cradled body. She reacted with but just a breath.

"Do you think there's more to life than completing missions?"

She gave a quiet sniffle.

He sighed.

And the two sat there, watching the stars of the sky and Earth.

"Asuka," he spoke again, "Have you ever considered my feelings?"

Her face flinched between her two legs.

"I don't like you."

Silence emanated from her.

"But then, I do at the same time."

Standing up once more, his body faced her's, and he said- once she turned her head from her lap, "You have the most potential out of everyone else. You are a Shinobi! And I'm just a regular guy! All that you've done during my training; they all marvel me. You shine, Asuka, brighter than the lights of Tokyo. And that's why I tried to help you. Take the cuffs off your hand, and make you a happy person once more."

He then held his hand to her, and waited, once again, for her reply. It took some time for her to notice this delivery for aid. She stared, before placing a hand on his, gripping on the fair skin.

"Now, get up. And we shall go to our own homes." She stood up slow with obedience, eyes deep into his face.

"Keima..." her eyes mellowed, but, at the sudden snap of the mind, her senses exited the trance of numbness. And she jumped at the fact that his hand was wrapped around her's.

"L-let go!" she turned away, hiding her blushing face, giving a light push to him. To her hearts relief, he let go. But then, his presence seemed nonexistent as it once had been: next to her in full view of Shibuya's lights. "Keima?" she turned back to him, before peering down.

He had fallen.

"ASUKAAAAAAAAA!" he screamed as his body reacted to the forces pulling him to Death's door.

"KEIMA!" she cried in utter shock before jumping down with him. Reflexes were in play, and she found herself shooting beside the many floors of the building, with arms as legs closed and straight. It was only a split second before she reached him, in which she wrapped her hands around his waist, screaming for him to stand still.

The floor never looked more dreaded in his life, Keima noted.

And Asuka knew: she could not break the fall with mere strength.

And Death heard a knock on its door.

But at that second that seemed so special in all the seconds the universe accumulated, a mist of purple coloration, almost invisible to the eyes of the men, women and children below, enveloped the two, and their fall slowed until they touched the ground. In the middle of the street, where, in the junction, they landed in a spot where cars never turn to.

Keima had already opened his eyes, greeted with the night lights and Asuka's closed face. She held him, embarrassingly, in a bridal's cradling, but she herself seemed unaware of it. The smell of fumes clogged his nose, and the irritation sneezed out from him unpleasantly. With the rude noise, Asuka raised an eyebrow before unfolding her eyelids to meet his gaze.

"Asuka, y-you saved me..." he spoke first, "Without you, I would have died..."

"Wha-! How did I-?"

"You... I told you you were strong. Because you wanted to help me so much, you jumped down, and tried. And you succeeded."

"Ah... ah..." Her face was knotted in surprise, but slowly, the tenseness dissipated, and her tears returned in a gradual torrent down her glowing face, "K-Keima, t-thank you..."

"Now, please let go of me-" his sentence was cut short as a finger placed itself on his mouth. He looked at the finger, then at the person whom owned it, quizzical in her intentions.

"You..." her voice steadied itself, "You did this."

"I know."

And then their lips touched, under the moonlight sonata.

Almost in a rude awakening, the Runaway Spirit then harmlessly and painlessly released from her strengthened heart, blasting out, rather smoking-ly, of her body and into the air, wishing to seek shelter in another host. It was adorned in the head with two horns, with vessel-ridden arms the size of its own body. It was no ordinary Spirit, Haqua, hiding in the distance, noted. It was a hideously disfigured spirit; a creature that fancied only the weakened hearts of women. And its strength: a monstrous addition to its resumé, seemed unmatched to all those she, and perhaps with a little belief, Elsie, had ever strived to capture.

She breathed a sigh of relief at the success of, not the capture itself, but Keima's survival and the loss of the army of dark-garbed attackers. Aware of the difficulties if one left the particularly immense spirit running around, she took up posture before jumping in to the air, flying with the hagoroma's utilities. And on one hand was the containment bottle. But it was not a standard-issued piece. No, it had been specially given to her by her own superior: Nikaido Dokurou. She had seen through the spirits' and their strengths, and had taken the liberty to handing these specially made bottles to her. Truly, Haqua had a reserve below her hagoroma.

But where was this mystery-shrouded woman all this time? What alleyway did she traverse through during the unfolding of so many stories.


	22. Chapter 22

Well, he's done himself well," Kiriya, shrugged. Still in Keima's humble home, he turned to the couch, gave a single clap, then another and another, to the person finding herself comfortable on the couch.

"Hmm," the transparent screen in front of her closed, and Nikaido turned around, arm placing on the comfort object, to him, "Well, you did even better, 'Sensei'. That act of yours could get you an award. And he gave me tons of problems now, kissing in the middle of the Shibuya populace..."

"You told me act arrogant..." he said, "To antagonize the boy, to try and stop him so that he would bear the brunt of the pressure. Is that so that he could truly unlock his potential of being the God of Love?"  
"Well, yes, that was what I wanted to do. But of course there's the rust he accumulated during that one month of being in a real relationship. Something multiplayer, I suppose."  
"And we planned all this. Me telling my Shinobi to wait outside- yes, I told them little about this romancing- And your devil, Haqua, getting ready to transport him so far into Tokyo. I do say, such plan organization impressed me, but, on second thought, how did you know there was a blemish in his plans?"

"You could say that I've been confiscating one time too many his pastimes."

"But," Kiriya paced slightly to her, "What made you think he had this hidden potential within him?"

She gave a giggle before turning to him with a small smile, "Tell me, how do you know your students have any potential at all?"

"Teacher's instinct?"

"Maybe, or it could just a personal connection. What did you give Asuka, anyway?"

"The mission? Well, it has something to do with Hebijo..."

"The evil ninja school? Yes, I am very interested in them too."

"You can't be implying-"

"Yes. There's something in them. And Keima might get involved too..."

"And Rin?"

"No, I feel no presence within her. If there was, we might need you in it."

"Hah, funny. I have to say, I do not go into relationships with former students; and I'm too old."

"Yeah. And I'm a devil. What can you do about that?"

The two only snickered, before they both disappeared: Kiriya in a flurry of smoke, and Nikaido with a sharp tug of her hagoroma, the utility of invisibility cloaking her till nonexistence. Keima shall never know of this simple chat, and similar colloquies of before. But there are times when silence are diamonds, and speech is food from Hell.

* * *

It seemed that they forgot about him.

"Hah," Keima sighed as he walked out of the class, test and writer's dexterity having drained him of some strength. Cleaning his new glasses, a pleasant image of remembrance, he spoke, "That was a waste of my time." And although he seemed to concern agitation with simple unobtainable wastes, his mind had continued its constant relay of what he had bore witness to, and of future captures. Surely, one more Shinobi of this school must have a Spirit lingering within them. Jubilance after Asuka's capture- which leaded to a near-district wide wiping in the memories of most- was but a blank sheet in his mind- a large contrast from his test papers which one should notice to have much intelligence scribbled on their faces.

But there was a small glow in the emotions within him; and it all stemmed from a message mailed into his newly replaced PFP. True, he missed PFP Number 053: Charlie, but that sadness shall be conveyed with written text in another day. What was mailed to him was a simple message from Nikaido:

'Congrats, Onii-Chan.'

Walking down the hallway with bag slinging on shoulder and PFP on the other's hand, he whistled a tone of pleasantry while the voices of teachers he found of no importance spoke beside him. The test-no, more accurately, tests had taken a day's worth of school, and he found it little a privilege to leave at such circumstances; at this time, the congestion for homely comfort was but air resistance, and the many school bodies held their pupils back in the building for the last period of the day; and that by itself excluded the clubs.

There were many questions he himself found unanswerable as of the moment. Like, how had he found Asuka? Back then, it felt as if he had gone into a world of another; the mystery of it all shook him not as lightly as he had expected. Maybe Haqua could open an enquiry of the subject, and find a comprehendible answer for the mystery. And this God-like state he had plunged into. The sheer audacity he found himself blessed in was a perplex of impossible levels. And how he reviewed nearly all the games he had ever played in his mind in just meet seconds. Was this... perfect memory? True, with this, it would be a great boost in ability for him.

"Hmm?" a pleasant ping of the PFP took his attention off the screen's contents, and he shrunk his game to find that he had a new message.

He had, by reading that message, been burdened with the afternoon shopping. Haqua had unfortunately ran out of ingredients behind her kitchen, and she, time begging to be used for housework, had no extra hand for the grocery. So, why not ask Keima, whose trail to home always forced to him a hefty scrapping of the greengrocer's building. Surely he had time to pick up some miso and rice, and perhaps a cabbage or those miniature tomatoes most associated with grapes?

He only replied with a sigh before playing his games again. The journey to comfort seemed a little longer than he recalled.

* * *

Their minds seemed orthodox in wavelength. And Asuka could only breathe out in deep distress at this fact. She had been, even out of denial and disagreement, chosen by the three for an errand in the nearby greengrocer involving a restock of basic necessities like grain, greens and a hefty pound of the sea's bounty. Her body seemed to sigh at the usage of its two feet; a repetitive feel in the steps and items on the list only served to create this tiredness in her muscles that urged her to return home for further discussion. But one question.

When did she do this before? Was this not her first time in a month or so?

Hunting her way through the supermarket, she found the cabbages she needed, and begin to examine each and every one with a keen eye. Again, this wave of repetitive-borne monotone slowed her, and she asked herself why she seemed to find annoyance in this errand. Pushing this emotion away, she reached out to grab a large daikon, but, feeling the familiar skin of another human, pulled away with haste and an embarrassed complexion. The other did the same.

"S-sorry," she muttered an turned to the mystery person. A boy with glasses- her age, she presumed- only stared back at her now uncomfortable face with this air of incomprehensible awe.

"U-um, can you stop staring?"

"Ah, sorry," the boy turned away, cheeks a dash of red. Asuka then did the same, turning back to her task and placing a daikon into the plastic basket on her arm. All was silent at the moment as the time passed. No noteworthy events gave itself recognition around the store, and there were no sounds other than the tumbling of large vegetables as they browsed for clean, ripe delicacies. This strange atmosphere between the two had her raise questions in her mind. But although her vocals begged for conversation, her heart strained and stopped her from even mouthing a word. There was this unusual aura, a discomfort of sorts, around him, and she found the question of 'have we met before' such a potent counter to this uncomfortable awkwardness. And so, breath deep and calming, she sai-  
"Hey, have you heard?"

The boy spoke before she did, and she froze. It was seconds after before she shook the stiffening of muscles away and replied, "H-heard what?"

"There's this rumor about 'ninjas' protecting the city, or something."

Realizing the shocking contents he spoke of, her hand slowly reached for her swords; could this man be an enemy, she would have no hesitation to silence him- for what normal man would know the darkened, secretive army of Japan?

"Well, if there are ninjas below the roof right now, I think I'll feel safe. Don't you think so, with them jumping around and watching us on the roof of buildings, like the Dark Knight?"

Her eyes widened, muscle contractions dispersing in the wake of the words. Her mouth left a small gape trailing the gasp leaving her mouth- a denotation of the expected turning its tracks for the unpredictable to pass without any problems. The mere topic of ninjas, questionable in the settings the boy had come into for it to be brought up, had brought up the almost-reflexive nature of defense within Asuka, but this positivity of the subject came as quite a shock to her. The cliché subtlety of it all threw her body into a state of twitch reflex; the all-too-quiet peace of this store, the loneliness of it all, and the predominant knowledge that she herself was a Shinobi was all she needed for preparation of an attack. But then, it might just be a coincidental flow of events: that this boy had tasted the delicacy of rumors, and, curious peaking to that of a cat's, shared with her the enticing bit of fiction- or fact- as an effort to understand the growing presence of it in the roaring city streets. The presence of such an interest rarely fails to capture the imagination of men.

"Don't you think so too?" she noticed his smile turn to her, and, mind confused, she asked:

"Think what?"

"That you feel safer when they're around- that is, if they are. Maybe of they're real, they're working really hard to protect the whole of Japan, right?"

There was a short silence, before Asuka's composure returned; she gave a nod, formed a smile on her glowing face and cooed, "Yeah, you might be right."

Keima gave a light raise of the eyebrow, small enough to miss, in response, scoffing at the flower he grew with a near-visible smile.

The capture had truly, as it had before started, ended. But that did not mark the end of Love's sponsored marathon. On that same hour, Kiriya, with time to spare, passed Keima.

* * *

**I know I forgot to explain about how he could go through Shinobi Barrier. Let's just say it has something to do with the devils and their connection with the Shinobi. Other than that reminder, I thank all of you who read through this fanfiction till the end. You all have been a wonderful audience, and I hope you stick around for my nine sequels. Seriously, NINE. WHICH I DO NOT HAVE MOTIVATION TO DO... I hope I regain this 'motivation' back one day, though, so I hope you guys can bear with it until that time. **

**Now I bow, and let the curtains loose. Goodnight, my beautiful audience!**


End file.
